Parlor Games: A Novel Part 38

"I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, that's very kind of you."

"What a shame. I must leave Friday. I'm afraid I won't see you this visit."

"I fear not. But I did want to discuss something with you. Do you have any investment opportunities at present?"

"Quite possibly. For a cash investment of fifteen thousand pounds."

I quickly calculated. That amounted to roughly fifty-eight thousand dollars. "And what is the return on it?"

"If the deal goes through, it would be eighteen percent."

"The deal is not set?"

"It's being negotiated. But I have worked with these parties before."

"And would you require me to contribute the whole of the fifteen thousand pounds?"

"Yes, though you could find other investors. That would be between you and them. Of course, my name should never be mentioned."

"Very well. I will get the funds in London. Can we make the transfer there?"

And that is how I came to figure in a private munitions deal, which I presumed would not benefit the Kaiser or his collaborators in any way. I found two other investors in my circle of London friends, and in March 1909, I withdrew forty-four thousand dollars, nearly all the money I had in the world. But that is how desperate I was. Women may have been gaining power all around the world-on March 12, they had voted for the first time in Denmark-but that mattered little to me, since I lived each day with a man who had threatened to throttle me. It made me mourn my dear, sweet Johnny all over again: Life with him would have been carefree and pa.s.sionate, precisely the opposite of my present lot.

Mr. Zaharoff had informed me it could take months for our investment to materialize, and I waited anxiously through the summer, then the fall and winter, all the time worrying that I might lose the money-and the means to escape Ernest's jealous and menacing grip-if the deal failed.

Finally, in December of 1909, Mr. Zaharoff contacted me through the agent at his London bank. He informed me that Britain's discovery of vast oil supplies in Persia had delayed the deal, which was now back on track, and he desired my services to complete it. This did not please me. I immediately wrote back, requesting a meeting in London, as well as a schedule of repayment on my sizable investment. To my great relief, he agreed to the meeting.

Mr. Zaharoff instructed me to wear plain clothes, take a train to the London Cannon Street Station, and meet him at the nearby Anchor Bankside Pub on Monday, December 20. In order to escape the house, I left while Ernest was out and told Daisy to inform him I'd been called to the bedside of a friend's dying mother. (I also alerted my friend to this necessary subterfuge-just in case Ernest made inquiries.) Dressed in modest attire, I boarded the train to London. I emerged from the Cannon Street Station and made my way through cloudy veils of fog, the streetlights appearing and disappearing like a sleepy cat's eyes, the street signs elusive in the rolling brume. I doubted anyone could have followed me, for I myself lost the way meandering the streets, and finally resorted to asking a local for directions. At the pub I found Mr. Zaharoff waiting inside the door, wearing a worn black coat, scuffed work boots, and a floppy deerstalker.

He had secured a corner table for us, and as soon as we ordered-he suggested a simple fare of fish and chips with ale-informed me, "I do not wish you to think me dishonorable in my dealings. I have deposited half the original investment in your bank account."

"I don't consider you dishonorable, but quite tardy."

"It's best I not tell you too much. It's a three-way deal, and each transaction requires many steps. With Germany turning more bellicose each day, relations in Europe are delicate and complicated."

"You said you require my services. I have no idea what you mean by this."

"I need someone to travel to Alsace with an important doc.u.ment. I prefer a woman who can travel un.o.btrusively and with ease."

"This was not part of the original understanding."

"I do not require you to play this role. I can find someone else, but it will take more time. And I believe you could manage it quite well."

"What are the risks?"

"There are none-unless the lady traveler unnecessarily attracts the attention of a spy or soldier and bungles the delivery. My agent in Alsace is completely trustworthy."

"And if I were to undertake this, could I expect to be compensated?"

"Most certainly. I am prepared to deposit another five hundred pounds for the trip preparations, and, upon your return, the originally agreed-upon sum plus an additional twelve hundred pounds."

I straightened the folds of my dress. "It will be two weeks before I can travel. Christmas is approaching, and I am in the midst of a move to London."

Mr. Zaharoff's payment provided just the funds and incentive I needed to enact my plan. Christmas celebrations at Bray Lodge went off splendidly, and I purchased an especially nice gift for Ernest: a Norfolk jacket well suited for his automobile outings. Three days after Christmas, on one of Ernest's regular Tuesday evenings at his club, I hired two men to bring a coach around. Daisy and I hurriedly packed our clothes and personal effects, and the coach transported us to London's Shaftesbury Hotel, where we had stayed on our very first visit to London. We took a suite overlooking the avenue, so that we could keep an eye on goings-on. The next day, I visited the hotel manager's office to inform him I might require the a.s.sistance of the security staff should a certain Ernest Whidbey attempt to disturb me.

The second week of January 1910, I donned a mourner's garb, complete with veil, and made my lonely pilgrimage to the village of Nancy in Alsace. The wheres and hows of my meeting with the Alsatian agent are not terribly interesting; suffice it to say that I concluded my business with Mr. Zaharoff to the satisfaction of all parties. However, I later learned that someone had taken note of my journey.

AN IMMORAL CONSIDERATION.

LONDON-1910

Shortly after nine on the morning of February 14, 1910, a sharp knock sounded at our hotel door. I sprang from my bed, reached for my house robe, and rushed out of the suite's bedroom. Daisy, who had already risen, looked up at me from the couch, her expression etched with concern. My G.o.d, I wondered, could it be Ernest? I whispered to her, "Ask who's calling."

She nodded and approached the door. "Who is it, please?"

"Constable Barrett. With some papers for May de Vries."

I shook my head.

Daisy spoke through the door. "My lady is not available to receive visitors."

"I'll wait. I'm instructed to hand some papers to her."

Daisy and I bustled to the bedroom and closed the door behind us.

I plopped down on the bed. "What in the world could this be about?"

"Maybe Ernest is with the constable."

"I doubt it. He couldn't very well strangle me in front of an officer."

I took my leisure dressing, for I doubted the "papers" brought good news and I wanted time to consider the possibilities. "I suppose, once Ernest got past his ranting," I said to Daisy, "he hatched some elaborate plot to corner me."

In fact, I almost hoped the matter did involve Ernest-and not my recent trip to Alsace. Or some sinister trap set by Reed Dougherty. An hour later, I opened the door to find Constable Barrett reposed against the wall.

He snapped to attention and turned to face me. "May de Vries, please."

"I am she."

"Oh ... in that case"-he fumbled through a leather bag and extracted an oversized envelope-"this is for you, ma'am. You must sign for it."

I did the officer's bidding and joined Daisy on the couch. Opening the envelope, I pulled out a two-page doc.u.ment and skimmed it: "Dr. Ernest Whidbey ... sues for repayment."

"My G.o.d," I said, snapping my head up. "He's suing me."

I clapped my eyes to the doc.u.ment again: "... black pearl brooch ... valued at 4,217 ... by order of court ... appear before King's Bench Division ... March 24, 1910."

Gaping at the page, I exclaimed, "For over twenty thousand dollars."

"What gall," said Daisy.

I threw the papers on the coffee table. "He'll not get the brooch back, or the money."

I strode into court on the designated date, with Daisy at my side. We navigated the maze of wooden compartments in the windowless chamber, Daisy to the adjacent witnesses' room and me to a seat beside my solicitor, Henry Brewster. Mr. Brewster was reputed to be a tough-minded counsel; he certainly looked the part, with his severe, overhanging brow and stern demeanor. During our preparatory meetings, I found his manner diligent and no-nonsense. He'd been thorough in gathering background and subsequently suggested we levy a counterclaim-for the roughly fourteen thousand dollars I had lent Ernest to gamble in Monte Carlo, as well as fifteen thousand dollars for damages to my reputation. As Mr. Brewster explained, a civil suit is like a chess game: Strategy and cunning are everything. And, after all, I had been ill-used by Ernest, kept under his roof against my wishes after he'd promised marriage. (If my marriage to Rudolph came up, I could easily explain that Rudolph had drawn up the divorce papers and stood ready to sign.) The jurors trudged in and seated themselves in the box to the side of the courtroom, and the judge entered and stepped up to his pedestal seat. I felt Ernest glaring at me, but I held myself still and trained my eyes on the judge.

After a flurry of preliminaries and jury instructions, Judge Darling invited Ernest's solicitor, Mr. Ainsworth, to present his case.

Mr. Ainsworth eased off his chair and arranged the flows of his black robe. The judge and solicitors looked quite ridiculous in their long robes, silly bobbed wigs, and white Pilgrim-style ties. And Ainsworth, a short elderly man with a head too large for his narrow-shouldered frame, looked especially so, preening and strutting in the manner of a child who'd finally discovered a way to fend off his bully tormentors.

He began, "M'lord and members of the jury, Dr. Ernest Whidbey's claim is very simple. He seeks to recover the loan he extended to the Baroness May de Vries, a loan she requested for the purchase of an expensive brooch. You see, Dr. Whidbey and the defendant resided together for roughly five years. During that time, the kind doctor paid all household as well as traveling expenses. After these years of support, the defendant suddenly and inexplicably fled the household, taking this brooch with her, leaving no address, and failing to repay the loan. As for her counterclaim, the requests are ludicrous, a mere attempt to skirt the issue before us. While the Baroness did loan Dr. Whidbey funds to gamble, she did so of her own initiative, requesting that he gamble on her behalf. Nor does the damages claim make any sense under the circ.u.mstances. Dr. Whidbey invited her to reside at Bray Lodge, she willingly agreed, and, furthermore, she was free to leave at any time.

"I now call Dr. Ernest Whidbey to the witness stand."

For the next few hours, I suffered through Ernest's laments: "I purchased the black-pearl brooch expressly at the Baroness's request." ... "Why, yes, she even picked it up from the jeweler." ... "She told me on several occasions that she found our living arrangement very agreeable." ... "I was completely shocked by her sudden departure."

My solicitor, however, nicely countered these p.r.o.nouncements by calling me to testify about Ernest's a.s.surances of marriage.

"Yes," I explained. "It was my understanding we were to wed. Although he claimed that his former wife made that difficult."

After establishing that Ernest had, all along, showered me with his favors, including some very fine pieces of jewelry, my attorney asked, "Do you believe an immoral consideration entered into his reason for these purchases?"

I lowered my eyes to my lap. "Yes."

"And how would you characterize that expectation?"

"That I reside with him as if we were married."

"Which you did for almost five years?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever wish to quit this immoral arrangement?"

"Yes, the last few years."

"What prevented you?"

"He physically threatened me. I feared for my safety."

But of course Mr. Ainsworth insisted on cross-examining me.

I held up quite well until he launched a surprise attack.

"Baroness, do you know a man by the name of Basil Zaharoff?"

"Yes."

"What is the nature of your relationship with him?"

"I consider him an acquaintance."

"Do you, my lady, entertain all acquaintances through the night?"

Stunned, I clapped a hand to my breast.

My solicitor shot to his feet. "Objection, m'lord. Mr. Ainsworth is d.a.m.ning by insinuation."

Judge Darling gazed down upon Ainsworth. "Sustained. Please reframe the question, Mr. Ainsworth."

"Yes, m'lord," he said. Turning to me, he asked, "Did you travel to the Continent from the seventh to the thirteenth of January?"

"Yes."

"Did you meet Mr. Zaharoff there?"

"No, I did not."

"Why did you leave London that week?"

"To visit the church my father was baptized in."

"Where is this?"

"In Nancy, Alsace."

Ainsworth scratched his forehead. "What prompted you to do this in the middle of the winter?"

"Christmas always makes me sentimental. And it was the first time I felt free to travel there."

"This trip had nothing to do with Mr. Zaharoff?"

I huffed with impatience. "I have said I did not meet Mr. Zaharoff on this trip."

"Do you deny a romantic involvement with Mr. Zaharoff?"