The drawing room door opened and the butler entered, carrying a card on a silver tray. “A gentleman to see you, ma’am.” There was a slight emphasis on the word gentleman.
Lillie frowned severely. “Didn’t I say that we weren’t to be interrupted on any account, Williams?”
“He insists it is quite urgent, ma’am.” The butler was apologetic. “He won’t say what it’s about, but I fear he won’t go away until you have seen him.”
“Forgive me, Beryl.” Lillie reached for the card. “Let’s see who this insistent fellow is.” She read it and glanced quickly up at Kate, her eyebrows arched in a look of great surprise.
“Why, it’s Lord Sheridan!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
In spite of the many difficult and even dangerous situations in which I have found myself, I have rarely been afraid, because I have usually had the good fortune of having someone at hand to offer protection.
Lillie Langtry
If Charles had expected to be overwhelmed by Lillie Langtry’s legendary beauty, he would have been disappointed. Beside his auburn-haired wife, whom he genuinely considered the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, Lillie Langtry looked slightly frayed and world-weary. While the actress was still undeniably pretty, the face and figure that had caused such a sensation in the late seventies now carried the marks of two decades of indulgence: there were wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, and one cheek bore the telltale bruise that Kate had described; the waist had thickened; the alabaster arms and throat, still white, had grown noticeably heavy. But there was a firm determination in her mouth and resolution in the set of her jaw, and he could not help but recall Sarah Bernhardt’s retort when told of Mrs. Langtry’s plans for a stage career: “She will go far, not with her talent or her beauty, but with her chin.”
He bowed over Lillie Langtry’s outstretched hand. “Thank you for seeing me,” he said, and smiled slightly at his Kate, a pen in her hand, a notebook open on her lap, who was regarding him with undisguised astonishment. “I am sorry to have interrupted your talk.”
“Lord Sheridan,” the actress said, in a low, velvety voice. “How thoughtful of you to drop in and make sure that your wife is being properly looked after.” She patted the sofa beside her invitingly. “Do come and sit beside me, my lord. Will you have coffee or tea? Or perhaps-”
“Thank you, no.” Charles took the chair opposite, where he could observe her face. “I’m afraid this is not a social call, Mrs. Langtry. I’ve come on a rather unpleasant errand.”
Kate leaned forward. “Charles, what in the world-” Uneasily, her gray eyes searched his face. “Is Patrick all right? Nothing’s happened to-”
“Patrick is quite well, my dear.” He looked at Lillie, whose expression was openly inquiring. “Perhaps you would prefer to speak with me in private, Mrs. Langtry. Our conversation may be somewhat… distressing.”
“Fie, my lord, fie!” Lillie exclaimed, lifting her chin. She laughed lightly, a teasing laugh. “What distressing thing can you possibly wish to say to me? And what in the world have you to say that your lovely wife might not hear?”
The brittle, half-mocking laugh decided him. This woman was an experienced actress, skilled in imitating a variety of emotions. To obtain anything like an authentic, a genuine response (if that were indeed possible), he would have to shake her, to shock her, and probably Kate as well.
“Mr. Alfred Day has been murdered,” he said bluntly. “He was shot to death last night between the hours of nine and ten. You are suspected of having committed this crime, Mrs. Langtry. Where were you at that time?”
Lillie sat very still, her face suddenly pinched and white, her eyes large and dark. But she did not seem as jarred by his words as she surely should have been: an indication to Charles that she already knew of Day’s death and was perhaps even prepared for the accusation. She looked down at her folded hands and after a moment’s silence, murmured, “Isn’t it curious for a gentleman of your stature in Society to be doing the business of a common policeman?” She managed to make the last word sound obscene.
“I am here at the request of the Prince of Wales,” Charles said, in the most autocratic tone he could summon. He saw Kate’s eyes widen. “It is His Highness’s intention to keep this matter out of the hands of the police as long as possible.”
At the mention of the Prince, Mrs. Langtry’s head had come up quickly and her eyes had fastened on Charles. Her face was still, the expression in her eyes dark and unreadable. But there was a small tic at one corner of her mouth that she could not control. Charles had rather stretched his commission, but he felt that he had shaken her.
He smiled bleakly and went on. “In the dead man’s waistcoat pocket, I discovered a note written on stationery embossed with the words Regal Lodge. It was signed with your initials. This message directed Mr. Day to meet you at nine in St. Mary’s Square. At what time, Mrs. Langtry, did he join you?”
“You have my note?” Lillie’s eyes flashed and her tone was imperious. “You have no right, my lord. I demand that you hand it over to me, this instant!”
Charles shook his head. “It is evidence, Mrs. Langtry, in a murder case.” He leaned forward, his voice ice-cold. “At what time did Alfred Day join you in your carriage?”
Lillie’s nostrils flared, her jaw tightened, and she could not conceal the fear that flickered in her eyes. But when she spoke, her voice was clear and without tremor.
“You may tell His Highness that I waited for Mr. Day in St. Mary’s Square until nearly nine-thirty. When it became apparent that the man was not coming, I drove on to the Rothschilds’, where I arrived at quarter to ten.” Her voice was emphatic, even defiant. “And that, sir, is God’s very truth. You may confirm it with my coachman. And His Highness will be able to tell you the time of my arrival.”
“No doubt he will have checked his pocket watch at the exact moment you made your entrance,” Charles said dryly. His look was severe. “Why did you ask Mr. Day to see you? What was the matter you intended to discuss?”
Kate leaned forward, biting her lip. “Charles, I really don’t think-”
“Come now, Mrs. Langtry.” he said harshly, ignoring his wife. “We’ll have no secrets in this matter. What did you mean to discuss?”
Again he saw the undisguisable flicker of fear in the actress’s eyes. She bit her lip. “Will you… how much will you tell His Highness?”
“Only as much as absolutely necessary.”
She lowered her head. When she spoke, her voice was muffled. “I owed Mr. Day… some money. He had asked me to settle my account in full.”