a crimson warning; a lady emily mystery

8/4/2019 A Crimson Warning; A Lady Emily Mystery

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Tis is a work o ction. All o the characters, organizations, and events portrayed

in this novel are either products o the authors imagination or are used ctitiously.

. Copyright 2011 by asha Alexander. All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States o America. For inormation, address St. Martins

Press, 175 Fifh Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.minotaurbooks.com

Library o Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Alexander, asha, 1969-

A crimson warning : a Lady Emily mystery / asha Alexander. 1st ed.

p. em.

ISBN 978-0-312-66175-5

1. Upper classEnglandFiction. 2. Mayair (London, England)

Fiction. 3. EnglandSocial lie and customs19th centuryFiction.

I. itle.

PS3601.L3565C75 2011

813'.6dc23 2011026218

First Edition: November 2011

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1


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I was dancing while he burned, but I had no way o knowing that, not

then, while spinning on the tips o my toes, my husbands grip rm

around my waist as he led me around the ballroom again and again,

glistening beads o sweat orming on his orehead. My heart was light,

my head ull o joy, my only complaint the temperature o the room. Its

warmth was oppressive, humid and thick; the air heavy with the oil o

too many perumes. Looking back, I realize I had not even the begin-

ning o an understanding o real heat, or o the pain o re with its in-

discriminate implacability. How could I? I was in Mayair at a ball. Te

man meeting his ery end might as well have been on the opposite sideo the earth.

Tat evening, my side o the earth was Lady Londonderrys ball-

room, one o Londons nest, where I stood surrounded by riends and

acquaintances, happy and sae, with bubbles o political gossip and

society rumors oating around me. Te ornately decorated room, with

its columns and gilded suraces, took up nearly the entire rst oor,

and was rumored to have been modeled afer the site o the Congresso Vienna. Lord Londonderry displayed his collection o paintings

on the walls. Marble statues, in the Greco-Roman tradition, stood in


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Tasha Alexander

regularly-spaced nooks. Te house seemed to pulse as the orchestra

began a waltz, my avorite dance.

Shall we continue? Colin asked.I shook my head, out o breath. Its too hot, even or a waltz.

Colin Hargreaves, a man always capable o anticipating a ladys every

need, whim, andsometimes more importantlydesire, steered me

through the crowds in both the main room and its antechamber until

wed reached the landing o the grand staircase. Here, leaning against

the gilded railing, I was considerably less cramped. I could almost breathe.

Better? Colin asked, removing two champagne utes rom the

tray held by a waiter who disappeared with swif precision beore we

could thank him.

Much. I lowered my ancerise silk to match my dressand

gulped the cool drink.

Colin touched my cheek. Easy, my dear, or Ill have to carry you

home in disgrace.

Te thought o you throwing me over your shoulder is hardly a

disincentive. I tilted the glass again and drained it, marveling at how

handsome my husband was. His neat black jacket was perectly tailored,

his crisp shirt and narrow tie both spotless white, his skin tanned rom

the summer sun and ushed rom dancing.

I should hope not, he said, his dark eyes ull o the sort o heat to

which, unlike that caused by extremes o weather, I would not object.I anything, it encourages me to overindulge. I may need quite a bit

more champagne.

Champagne or not, Ive plans or you when we get home, he said.

Dancing with you always has a proound effect on me. In the early

days o our acquaintance, afer the death o my rst husband, Colin had

inquired whether the conventions o mourning helped me manage my

grie. Id told him no, and admitted to keenly missing dancing. Hedtaken me in his arms at once, there in my drawing room, and the waltz

we shared lef me breathless, tingling, and more than a little conused.


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Londonderrys butler approached and pulled my husband aside. Teir

heads bent together or only an instant as the servant handed Colin an

envelope. He bowed to my husband and retreated but not beore shoot-ing a disparaging look at his mistress recently ghting guests.

Sort this out amongst yourselves in private i you must, Colin said

to the gentlemen, olding the note when hed nished reading. Ive no

more time or your antics. He turned on his heel and took the stairs

two at a time, reaching Ivy and me in a matter o seconds.

Urgent business, Im araid. Teres been a re in Southwark. For-

give me? I know I can rely on the Brandons to see you home, he said,

giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. Ill meet you there as soon as I can.

One might have thought the ball would all to pieces afer such a scan-

dalous interruption, but this was not the case. Te orchestra continued

to play, couples turned around the dance oor, and the guests con-

sumed a steady stream o champagne. But Ivy and I had lost our taste

or rivolity and asked her husband to call or the carriage and take us

to my house in Park Lane.

At the end o estive evenings, my riends and I ofen retired to my

library, with its tall windows, wide replace, and cherry bookcases that

went all the way to the ceiling. I displayed my collection o ancientGreek vases here, and elt more sentimental about them than I did any

o the other objects in the house. It was a Greek vase owned by my rst

husband that had sparked my interest in antiquities. As or the room

itsel, it had been my preerred gathering spot rom the moment Colin

and I were married. onight, however, it elt too hot and close. Te night

had cooled, but the air inside was still cloying, so we sat in the garden,

Ivy and I perched on wrought-iron chairs while her husband, Robert,leaned against a large tree near one o the Japanese lanterns lighting the

space around us. Behind him rose a sculpture o Artemis, her graceul


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a crimson warning

arm steady as she pulled back an arrow in her strong bow. An old

riend o mine had made the piece, a modern copy o a Roman copy o

the long-lost Greek original, ashioned by my avorite ancient sculptor,Praxiteles.

I still hold out hope or Polly, Ivy said. Tomas Lacey is a younger

son. Its entirely possible his mother will let him go through with the

marriage. Its not as i it would make any real difference to the amily.

Tere is no possibility that Polly Sanders is going to marry any son

o Earl Lacey. Te countess is ar too proud, Robert said. Robert Bran-

don was a man o principle who had once been a great political hope or

the Conservative party. A staunch traditionalist, he had seemed on a

ast path to greatness until he was charged with murdering his mentor,

a man universally despised throughout Britain. Desperate and aban-

doned by all his ormer supporters, hed summoned me to his cell in

Newgate and asked me to help clear his name. I was more than glad to

assist. Te act he was with us now was a testament to the success o my

subsequent investigation.

I pressed my hands against my temples. Let me understand. A woman

o ill repute steps orward to claim she is Polly Sanderss mother, and

that Lord Sanders persuaded his wie to raise the child as her own?

It wouldnt be the rst time such a thing has happened, Ivy said.

Georgiana, Duchess o Devonshire, raised her husbands illegitimate

daughter.Ivy. Robert shot her a sharp glare.

Its true, Ivy said. Te beadwork on her gown, made rom Nile-

green embroidered silk, sparkled as she moved to reach or her husbands

hand. Even i it was a hundred years ago.

Why are we to believe this woman? I asked. What has Lord Sand-

ers to say about the matter?

Unortunately, hes chosen to remain silent on the subject, Robertsaid. He lef the ball without uttering a word. Which, naturally, leads

those around him to assume the veracity o the womans story.


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Tasha Alexander

She decided to conront him in the Londonderrys ballroom? I

asked. She couldnt possibly have thought shed gain admission.

She didnt need to. She did a masterul job o causing a scene out-side. More effective than i every guest in the house had seen her, Id

say, Robert said. Far better to let the story make its way through the

crowd on its own.

Our old riend gossip, I said.

It was hideous, Ivy said. Hal the room knew what had happened

beore the countessand they were all breathless, waiting to see what

she would do. I was standing not three eet rom her when she turned

on poor Polly. Te girl withered in an instant.

Lord Tomas seems more concerned with deending his ances

honor than in throwing her over, I said.

Tat will change as soon as his athers through with him, Robert

said. Te amily will not allow him to marry the daughter o a housemaid.

Id imagine not, I said. O course, i her mother had been a mis-

tress o higher class, wed all turn a blind eye, wouldnt we?

We would not! Ivy said.

No, I said. Youre correct. Because a mistress o higher class would

have raised the child hersel and everyone would have pretended to be-

lieve it to be her husbands, not her lovers. Society preers a ne, well-

bred deception.

Emily! Ivys smooth brow urrowed. You know perectly well thatsort o thing hardly ever happens.

I wont argue with you, Ivy. Its too hot.

Te sound o crunching gravel announced the approach o my in-

comparable butler, Davis, who arrived carrying a tray heavy with a large

pitcher o cold lemonade.

Madam? he asked.

Please pour or us, Davis, I said. Im exhausted and can hardlymove. oo much dancing in the heat.

He did as I asked, then bowed and turned to leave, stopping beore


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hed taken more than hal a step. Looking back at me, he raised his eye-

brows and his lips quivered ever so slightly.

Yes? I asked.I lef Mr. Hargreavess cigars inside, madam, as the combination

with lemonade would be rather atrocious.

Youre very bad, Davis, I said. Ill expect an entirely different out-

come the next time I call or port rather than lemonade. With another

bow, he lef us. He knows Colin doesnt mind when I smoke, but dear

Davis reuses to be an accessory to what he views as my ruin.

A good man, your butler, Robert said.

I wont take any nonsense rom you, sir. I smiled. Robert had long

ago given up on trying to inuence me. He had come to tenuous terms

with his wies own small rebellions (drinking port with me, or example),

so long as she restricted them to private situations. Decorous behavior,

however, he required in public.

It was I who had corrupted Ivy, just as Id corrupted mysel. While

locked up in mourning afer the death o my rst husband, Id under-

gone an intellectual awakening and taken up the study o Greek. Id

learned to read the ancient language, reveled in the poetry o Homer,

and become a respected collector o classical antiquities. As I became

more enlightened, Id also come to despise the restrictions o society,

and in the course o rejecting them, had come to discover the simple

pleasure one could afford rom a glass o port, a drink ordinarily orbid-den to ladies. Now, at the prodding o another dear riend, Id expanded

my studies to include Latin, and had convinced Ivy to learn it as well.

She might not have been quite so enthusiastic a student as I, but she had

a sharp mind and was learning quickly.

Te lemonade cooled us and we sank into more relaxed postures as

the blue light o dawn reached or the dark sky. I wondered how much

longer Colin would be. His work as one o the most trusted and discreetagents o the Crown took him rom me at odd times o the day and

night, and I had come, afer more than a year o marriage, to trust his


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competence absolutely. His missions might be dangerous, but no one

was better suited than he to handle them. When he at last staggered into

our garden that night, his evening clothes were tattered, his ace black,and the bitter smell o smoke heavy on him.

Colin! I cried, jumping out o my seat. He raised a bandaged hand

to my cheek, a crooked smile on his ace.

Dont be alarmed, my dear, Im perectly ne. He dropped onto a

chair and Robert poured a tall glass o the now lukewarm lemonade or

him, emptying the pitcher. But Im araid I do come with terrible news.

Mr. Michael Dillman is dead, burned to death in his warehouse south o

the river. He swallowed hard and ground his teeth.

I hadnt known Mr. Dillman well, but there was no one in London

unamiliar with his stellar reputation. He ran a successul export busi-

ness and treated the men who worked in his warehouses more decently

than was the current custom. He paid them generously and ensured his

personal physician was on hand whenever their amily members ell ill.

Several charities depended on his generosity, and he was a great sup-

porter o the arts. Yet, despite all this and a not insignicant ortune, he

wasnt much o a xture in society. He could be socially awkward, not

because he was unkind or disinterested, but because his personality

tended to a quiet shyness rather than the buoyant joviality required

during the season. I regretted that I had not taken the time to know him

better.What happened? I asked.

Someone chained him to the bars on the offi ce window and set the

building on re. Im sorry, Robert, to speak o such horrors in ront o

your wie, but I see no point in disguising the truth. Te newsmen were

there almost as soon as I was. Tere will be no hiding rom the story.

He . . . he was to be married next week, Ivy said, her voice thin.

Cordelia showed me her wedding dress not two days ago.Cordelia Dalton? I asked. Ivy nodded. Cordelia was a quiet, thought-

ul girl whod made her debut the previous season. Shed not made much


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o a splash amongst the ashionable set, but that was likely due to a ail-

ing on their part rather than hers. Wed discussed novels when our

paths crossed at parties, and she always seemed more interested in read-ing and sketching than in dancing. I was quite ond o her.

Im more than sorry, Ivy, Colin said. Your riend will need your

comort now.

I did not listen to the rest o the conversation; the words no longer

made sense to me. I could not stop imagining the hideous scene, the ter-

ror the poor man must have elt when he realized what was happening,

the pain he must have endured beore succumbing to death.

I shuddered. And remembered that only a ew hours earlier, Id had

the audacity to complain about the heat in a ballroom.


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a crimson warning; a lady emily mystery

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