Marblestone Mansion, Book 10 Page 17

  “Was he in good health?”

  “It is your move.”

  “Oh, of course.” The duchess concentrated on the chess pieces and again moved a pawn into the path of her opponent’s queen. It made Daphne’s frown deepen. “Do you suppose a jealous husband was the reason the prime minister of Japan was assassinated?” the duchess asked.

  After a considerable time, when she could not spot the deception, Daphne took the duchess pawn and set it to the side of the boxwood. “My dear, all assassinations are done for political reasons.”

  “I suppose they are.”

  “I am surprised King Edward has not yet been assassinated.”

  Shocked beyond measure, the duchess gasped. “Why do you say that?”

  “He means to support France if there should be a war with Germany.”

  “And you disagree?”

  “Of course I disagree. The British and their dreadnoughts cannot stand up against the German Navy. The British would do well to stay home.”

  The duchess raised her voice, “And let France fall?”

  “What do you care if France falls, you are an American.”

  The duchess had forgotten that and quickly lowered her stern eyes. In silence, she countered each of Daphne’s moves and was not surprised when the fake Baroness won.

  “Well, I am tired,” said Daphne. “You will forgive me if I go to my hotel, will you not?”

  “Of course. I feel the same. Shall we play again tomorrow?”

  “I would like that,” said Daphne as she got up and walked to the door. “At two?”

  “I shall be waiting.” As soon as she was gone, the duchess gathered the pieces, put them and the board in the carrying case, and then went to the hotel registry counter. “May I borrow a pen and paper?”

  “Of course,” said the clerk.

  The duchess wrote a note, folded it, and handed it back to him. “When Baroness Von Schmid comes tomorrow, will you see that she gets this?”

  “Certainly. Have a safe voyage, Mrs. Ballin.”

  “Thank you, I shall.”

  He watched the duchess enter the elevator and after the door closed, he opened the note.

  It read: There is not, and never was, a Prince Charles Gessler of Romania.

  *

  The next morning and with great anticipation and excitement, the duchess boarded The RMS Empress of Britain, a 14,000 ton ocean liner, with two funnels, two masts, and twin propellers. Just as she was told, there was ample room in first class, and a first class stateroom awaited her. Victoria Jacqueline Ballin smiled, waved goodbye to the people she did not know and would never see again, as though they would forever be remembered. Then she moved to the other side of the ship to blow goodbye kisses to the United States, as the ship moved down the St. Lawrence River toward the Atlantic Ocean. So happy was she, the duchess waved goodbye to New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Anticosti Island, and Newfoundland, places she had never even heard of.

  On her second day at sea, she braved going to the first class dining room, where she sat alone at a table and scrutinized the other passengers. Seeing no one she knew who might recognize her, she finally relaxed. She ordered her meal and while she waited, stared out the window at the glistening ocean water. So far, the sea had been calm and her accommodations were more than pleasing…they were magnificent. It occurred to her that she might be confused. Were the accommodations better than before, or was it her state of mind? Of course it was her state of mind. Why wouldn’t it be? Had she not secured her freedom and by faking her death, played the ultimate joke on Hannish? Yes, she had.

  Her untimely death was not all her idea. In fact, when Mrs. Jolly so unexpectedly came to visit in her Salina, Kansas hotel room, she had not the slightest thought of doing anything of the sort. At Mrs. Jolly’s unexpected arrival, the duchess was somewhat flustered, for she had not formally entertained in months. Yet, it wasn’t long before she realized Mrs. Jolly had not come to be entertained.

  At first, the duchess denied everything, but after Mrs. Jolly began to explain what she had in mind, the duchess could see the beauty in her plan. It would take some doing, she suspected, but then, Mrs. Jolly said she and the sheriff had every detail already worked out. Roll in the dirt? No, she couldn’t…she wouldn’t. At that, Mrs. Jolly suggested her husband detain the duchess until they could collect the five thousand dollar reward.

  There was that.

  Right away, the duchess decided a little roll in the dirt would not likely kill her, as unpleasant as it sounded at the time. There was one little detail that irked the duchess and she was still not happy about it. She had to give them the expenses up front. Therefore, she paid for the film for the camera, the casket, the pallbearers, the burial plot, and was even asked to give a donation to the minister. She shuddered to think the preacher would say all those silly religious words commonly said over the dead, but she reasoned she wouldn’t be there to hear it.

  Indeed, killing Alexandra Sinclair off had its delights and its expenses. Just now, and for the first time, she considered how much money the town of Salina, Kansas, was making off her demise. The newspaper article reported hundreds of visitors and brisk sales of some sort of mementos. Apparently, she was not going to receive a share of those profits either, just as she did not expect she would see as much as a sixpence from the sale of the book about her.

  There was some good news, however. When she called a week later, Sheriff Jolly reported that Hannish and Cameron where there, and believed every word he told them. Nothing could have thrilled her more, save perhaps seeing the look on Baroness Von Schmid’s face when she read the note the duchess left in the hotel lobby. How she would have loved seeing that.

  *

  The duchess had not been in a ship’s haze-filled smoking compartment in a long time. The last time she dared enter, she was the only woman, about which she was delighted. This time there were four others, but they could be easily ignored. Soon surrounded by men, she accepted a cigarette from one, and asked where she might find a poker game. The duchess got several eager replies.

  “Victoria,” said a familiar voice behind her. The duchess slowly turned to see who it was, only to find herself face-to-face with Baroness Von Schmid. Daphne was pleasantly smiling…the duchess was not. “You are the last person I expected to see.”

  “I was just thinking the same. I did not mean to rush off,” Daphne explained, “but something came up and I must return home immediately. I was fortunate indeed to find a ship so quickly. But my dear, I left you a note at the hotel.”

  “Funny, I left you a note as well.”

  Daphne again smiled, “Well then, neither of us wanted to slight the other.”

  Annoyed, the duchess could find nothing to smile about. “I suppose not. Do you play poker?”

  Daphne leaned closer. “Did I not say there were other ways to get money from a man? I suggest we play at different tables. We know each other far too well to present a worthy bluff.”

  At that, the duchess nodded. “I agree completely. Perhaps we should meet for dinner tomorrow evening and discuss what we have learned about the people aboard.”

  “Why not?” Daphne watched a gentleman motioning her to a table at the end of the long room, made her excuses and walked away.

  Disappointed that she had not managed to call the fake baroness’ bluff, the duchess accepted an invitation to another table and a glass of scotch whiskey. Hopefully, another opportunity would present itself before they went their separate ways. With her figure once more restored, her daringly low, orange silk gown gave her an advantage over men who were too interested in her bosom to play a good hand. Nor did they seem to mind losing. By the end of the evening, she managed to add a tidy sum to the hatbox she kept under the bed. She changed into her nightgown and slipped under the covers.

  She was not happy to be sharing a ship with Daphne. A woman pretending to be a baroness would surly draw attention away from her. It could not be helped, she supposed. At least, when the
ship reached Liverpool, she would go one way and Daphne another.

  *

  For exercise, the duchess and Daphne took a jaunt around the promenade deck and then watched the sailors swab the deck. Both remarked on the amazingly good weather, the smooth sailing, and the lack of bothersome seagulls that took every opportunity of landing. In every direction, there was nothing but clear blue skies, and miles and miles of water.

  It was odd indeed, but when Daphne began to speak of the royalty she seemed to know quite a lot about, the duchess was beginning to enjoy their friendship much more. “Oh, do tell me more,” she said when they entered the ship’s lounge, a room where guests could play cards and board games, or just enjoy each other’s company. They found a small table along the wall where they could talk and then ordered drinks.

  “Well, Czar Nicholas and his cousin Prince George look remarkably alike. So remarkably alike that they could fool many if they had a mind to. Of course, neither of them cared to be born into royalty?”

  “They did not?” the duchess gasped. “I would have given anything to be born the daughter of a king.”

  “Yes, well, the daughter of a king, and even the wife of a king does little more than have children, and stand beside her husband when circumstances require it. A king is responsible for thousands, and must make the most difficult decisions. His daughter, should she inherit the throne, must be ready to do the same. It is an arduous life.”

  “I suppose so, but think of the balls and the…”

  Daphne laughed. “What an American you are. There is nothing quite that magnificent about it. A wife of one of the cousins must always be on guard not to embarrass her husband, and especially her husband’s grandmother, who just happened to be Queen Victoria.”

  “Yes, I know, I have…” the duchess caught herself before she admitted being at a London ball…read about that.”

  “Well then, you must know that they are required to travel, even when they are not in the mood. They must pretend to like every member of the royal family, and tolerate those that are most intolerable.”

  “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose it might be tedious at times.” The duchess smiled. Tedious or not, the thought of being a royal titillated her beyond measure. “You were going to tell me about a ball you attended in St. Petersburg.”

  “Yes, I was. I must say, St. Petersburg is my favorite city in all the world, except Vienna, Austria, naturally. It was in June, as I recall, and my husband and I had just…”

  The way Daphne told it convinced the duchess she had actually been there. The duchess could not find one single flaw in Daphne’s storytelling, and she was beginning to think the baroness was not a fraud after all. Furthermore, if Daphne truly was connected to a royal family, then perhaps, just perhaps, the duchess might not need to use her daughter to manipulate her way back into London society. With any luck at all, Daphne would do it for her. Perhaps she might get an invitation to stay in a castle in Austria, or attend one of Czar Nicholas’ balls in Russia. The possibilities were endless once she managed an association with some very prominent people and Daphne could open those doors.

  The more she thought about it, the wider her smile.

  Further delighting the duchess, she read in a newspaper aboard ship, that a company in France had begun to manufacture black hair dye without the use of cyanide. The duchess could not wait to try it.

  *

  The duchess was late to dinner. She slept too long and the constant time zone changes did not help matters. Domes in the dining room ceiling let her know it was still light out, and after having little to eat all day, she was starved. Finding the baroness was not difficult. On a ship with so few passengers, the captain had considered closing the second class dining room. However, Mrs. Lambert refused to eat with second class passengers, so all the dining rooms remained open. The duchess secretly agreed.

  “I was beginning to think you had fallen overboard,” said Daphne as the duchess was seated across from her.

  “How odd. I wished the same for you just last night.”

  Daphne reeled back. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?”

  “Forgive me. I have a habit of being a bit out of sorts first thing in the morning.”

  Daphne smiled. “I do forgive you. I am prone to a few unfortunate remarks myself.” She kept her peace while the duchess drank a cup of coffee and decided what she wanted to eat. On the limited menu was steak, roast chicken, and a pork stew, which she suspected were leftovers from the night before. Apparently, the duchess suspected it too, and ordered steak for her main dish.

  At length, the duchess took in her surroundings. She did not see anyone who might recognize her, but she did remember the man who nodded. It reminded her of something. “Daphne, do you see the man with blond hair who just this moment nodded to me?”

  “I do. What about him?”

  “Well, I played poker with him last night. He is quite disturbed about his wife’s infidelity.”

  “Oh, I see. Perhaps he is not as upset as you think. He has not yet taken his eyes off you.”

  “Oh that. Well, if he thinks I am the sort to fulfil his desires while he bemoans his wife, he is sorely mistaken.”

  “You do not partake in discreet affairs?” Daphne asked.

  “Gracious no. Do you?”

  “I am not a saint, if that is what you mean, but I do not seek such opportunities.”

  “Nor do I. I find him fascinating, nevertheless. He is quite disturbed and on his way back to London to have it out with her.”

  “How did he find out about her indiscretions?”

  The duchess answered, “He got it in a letter from a friend, he said.”

  “How dreadful to return home for such an upsetting reason.”

  “Indeed. Frankly, I did not realize men loved women as much as that. For a time last night, I feared he would actually shed a tear.”

  Expressing sadness, Daphne slowly shook her head. “He must be cut to the bone.”

  “I believe he is. I wonder… if you knew of a wife who had been unfaithful, would you tell the husband?”

  The baroness considered that for a very long moment. “Perhaps…yes, perhaps I would if the husband were a very good friend.”

  “I find myself in just such a situation, but I would not like the news coming from me.”

  “Why not?”

  The duchess hesitated. “Well, I am not the best one…I mean, he might not believe it coming from me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I lied to him once and he has not forgiven me.”

  “I see,” said Daphne. “That too is a misfortune we have in common. I once told a very serious lie only to find myself caught the very next day. I doubt I have been forgiven either.”

  “Men are such complicated creatures. Do you not agree?” asked the duchess as she devoured a bite of potatoes.

  “I certainly do.”

  “You will do it for me then?”

  “Do what?”

  “Write the letter, for he would surely recognize my handwriting.”

  Again, the baroness paused to think it over. “I could, I suppose, if you were to tell me precisely what to write. Do I know him?”

  “I doubt it. He lives in Colorado.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, I see no harm in my helping.”

  Pleased, the duchess abruptly stood up. “Good. Wait for me here and I shall fetch pen and paper.”

  An hour later, and after several revisions, the baroness signed the letter – Lady Roselee Taunton.

  “Taunton?” the duchess asked. “I have never heard of anyone named Taunton.”

  “Of course you have not,” said the Baroness. “Why would you? You are an American.”

  The duchess tried to cover her mistake with a smile. “Yet, I do try to keep up with British royalty when I can.”

  “You find them fascinating?”

  “I confess I do,” the duchess said as she folded the letter and put it in her c
lutch bag. “If you will forgive me, I wish to take a nap before this evening’s entertainment.”

  “As do I,” said Daphne. “See you then.” She watched as the duchess left the dining room, finished her coffee and then went to take an evening walk on the deck.

  *

  The duchess was playing poker and considering just how much the letter would turn her former husband’s life upside down. Naturally, she couldn’t mail it until they reached land, and it would take another week or two at least to reach him. Even so, she was certain to cause a marked difference, and upside down was just exactly what she wanted Hannish’s life to be. Naturally, it all depended on if the gutter rat had managed to survive her kidnapping. The duchess could see the advantages to her if it went either way, although she sorely hoped Leesil was dead. Dead, the second wife could not deny the charges, and Hannish would never know for sure. Alive, the duchess imagined, Hannish and Leesil would have a terrible battle. How she wished she could to be there to see it.

  Staying up all night playing poker meant sleeping half the day, but what did it matter? The sea was unusually calm, she suffered no seasickness at all on this voyage and in another day or two, she would be on dry land again. Begrudgingly, she dragged herself out of bed and began to dress.

  The stories Daphne told about King Edward were fascinating, and made her even more eager to someday be in his good graces. She had been out of circulation for so long, she realized, that King Edward was likely the only monarch she could still claim a passing acquaintance with.

  *

  It was not as if Daphne and the duchess did not know it was coming. From the port side of the ship, they could see black billowing clouds on the western horizon.

  “And the weather was so perfect yesterday,” Daphne said. “Oh well, I suppose we should finish our walk and go inside.”

  “Not yet. Perhaps we might see a lightning strike or two.”

  While the duchess searched the dark clouds looking for lightning, Daphne stared at the side of the duchess’ face. It was indeed a face she had not forgotten, and one she grew to more fervently hate each time she needed a big brother to lean on. That was years ago, but the image of her brother hanging from a tree was still fresh in her mind. The woman who called herself Daphne would be overjoyed if lightning would strike the duchess, or even if a large wave would happen to wash her overboard. Yes, lost at sea would be a perfect ending to such a cruel and thoughtless woman.