Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [13]
Elsa looked at her and thought how different they were. She realized with surprise that she was not repulsed by the thought that Cahoon should have indulged himself with either the brandy or the women. She would have, in the beginning, but not now. Olga cared to the point where she could not keep from betraying the pain of it, even in front of others. It was more than self-possession or dignity, or a trespass on her pride. She still loved Simnel, in spite of everything.
Olga was staring at her, waiting for a reply. She was angry, perhaps because Elsa was not hurt as she was, or maybe because it was Cahoon who had arranged the evening.
“In the linen cupboard, I believe,” Elsa said aloud.
“You must be mistaken.” Olga was derisive. “How can you kill yourself in a linen cupboard? Did she suffocate in a pile of sheets?”
“I gather it was worse than that, but I don’t know how.”
Olga tried to hide her shock. “You mean somebody did it deliberately? That’s absurd. Why would anyone bother?” There was an infinity of contempt in the final word.
You are wearing your unhappiness too openly, Elsa thought. It does not make you more attractive. Aloud she said, “I don’t know. But men do a lot of things for reasons I don’t understand.”
“Including having women like that to a party!” Olga added bitterly.
Liliane Quase entered in a swirl of pale golden-green skirts, light, airy, and feminine. She was beautiful in an abundant way. She had creamy skin, dark auburn hair, and eyes of golden brown. She was just a little too short to have real grace, but most of the time she disguised it with cleverly cut gowns that suggested more height than she had. Today the line of the gathered second tier was lower than usual, sweeping outward and making her legs seem far longer. Another woman would notice the artifice, but a man would not.
Elsa found herself smiling very slightly. She also knew that Liliane wore a higher heel to her shoes and had learned to walk in them very gracefully. She must have practiced a long time.
“For goodness’ sake, it’s necessary to humor the Prince of Wales, Olga!” Liliane said impatiently. “It’s probably largely harmless, a bit of showing off. It’s all very silly, but it’s even sillier of you to allow yourself to be offended by it. You give it more importance than it deserves.” She looked around for some form of aperitif, and saw nothing. “Women who keep taking offense are very tiresome, my dear. Nothing bores a man faster. Take my advice and pretend you don’t care a fig. In fact, better than that, don’t allow yourself to care.”
Olga drew in her breath to make a stinging retort, then apparently could not think of one. “Elsa is hinting that she was murdered,” she observed instead.
Liliane swung around to regard Elsa with surprise. “Who is saying such an idiotic thing?” Her voice was perfectly steady, but her eyes were bright and her gaze unnaturally firm. “Murdered how?”
“I don’t know,” Elsa admitted. “But she was found in the linen cupboard.”
“The linen cupboard!” Liliane exclaimed. “By whom, for heaven’s sake? Probably some stupid maid in hysterics. I dare say the wretched girl was with child and tried to abort herself. I expect they’ll get it cleared up, and we can all get back to what matters. There is a great deal to discuss yet to ensure that His Royal Highness is fully aware of all the facts.”
“I’m sure he knows the map of Africa as well as we do,” Olga told her. “It’s really quite simple. Cape Town is on the coast of South Africa, which is British anyway. After that the railway would go up through Bechuanaland,