The peacocks seemed determined to eat the wedding cake. For the third time in an hour, the colorful birds launched an assault on the linen draped table, only to have the servants chase them away. Eliza didn’t blame the peacocks. Clara had rebuffed the traditional fruitcake, choosing instead an elegant tiered cake decorated with pink rosebuds and covered in fluffy swirls of white icing. She couldn’t wait to sample it. The birds agreed, since they once more circled the table. Luckily, two footmen now stood guard.
The bride may have gone a bit overboard with her wedding decorations. Clara requested a variety of birds be let loose on the lush manicured lawns of Banfield Manor. Eliza counted at least a dozen peacocks strutting among the guests, along with just as many swans. And she couldn’t tell which ones were more ill-tempered. Certainly the two dozen white doves proved the messiest. The best man’s jacket had already been stained with bird droppings. Eliza ducked every time she heard the sound of wings.
Aside from the birds, things were going well. Best man Julian Dain and his wife sat with the bride and groom at a long table overhung with a trellis of pink roses. Both widowed mothers and the Saxtons joined them. On the opposite side of the terrace, Eliza, Freddy, Higgins, bridesmaid Alice, and two groomsmen sat together. The remaining attendants gathered at an adjacent table. The other guests enjoyed the wedding breakfast at smaller tables dotting the lawn.
Eliza popped a rose-shaped chocolate cream bonbon into her mouth. She loved every course: chilled white grapes and sugared violets, clam bouillon, salmon croquettes, green peas with Hollandaise, broiled squab with tiny creamed potatoes, and filet mignons in a mushroom and sherry sauce. A large crystal bowl of fruit sat on each table, luscious bonbons surrounding it.
“What a marvelous breakfast.” Thoroughly stuffed, Eliza finally pushed away her plate.
“I agree.” Freddy spooned up raspberries, unmindful of the peacock behind them.
“And such a beautiful sunny day,” Alice said. “How fortunate for the bride and groom.”
Eliza tossed a raspberry at the peacock who perched on the grass behind her. Two swans hurried over in hopes of stealing it, but the peacock let out a shriek which frightened them away. “Freddy, look how pretty they are. I do love birds. I had a canary once named Petey. But the little thing died one winter when I couldn’t afford any coal for the grate.”
He snorted. “Pretty? I think they’re a nuisance. What was my sister thinking, having so many silly birds at her wedding? I certainly don’t intend to have a single dove at our wedding. Assuming you ever agree to be my wife.” Freddy drained his glass of champagne. “And that seems more unlikely by the day. I‘ve proposed and been rejected by you dozens of times over the past few months. If this continues, I may leave off asking you altogether, Eliza.”
“Thank God,” Higgins said loudly. “Can we have that in writing?”
Eliza sighed. Freddy had been short with her all day. More than once he mentioned how she’d refused his proposals of marriage. He’d become tedious. And rather drunk. Seeing his younger sister marry after knowing her groom only a few weeks had put him a foul mood. Freddy must be upset with her indeed. She’d never even seen him tipsy. If he kept this up, Eliza would spend the rest of the reception seeking out more congenial male company. She glanced over at the bridal table where Detective Colin Ramsey was posted. All the Yard detectives policing the reception wore formal dress in order to not make their presence obvious. Ramsey appeared quite dashing in his black suit and Ascot tie. When he caught her looking at him, he winked. She turned away. Best not give Freddy any reason to be jealous. This was one wedding she was determined should end smoothly.
So far everything had gone as planned, except for the birds running amuck. And the gardens of Banfield Manor were the perfect setting for an early September wedding. Large urns filled with pink gladiolus, camellias, white orchids, and lilies of pink and white had been placed here and there on the lawn. A tall arch of pink and white flowers graced the end of the terrace. Pink satin ribbons streamed from white tents where maids offered guests small iced fairy cakes, trifles, raspberry and blackberry fools, and custard cream. Other tents held chilled champagne, wines, coffee and tea, which waiters brought to the guests’ tables.
“How is the port?” Eliza asked Higgins.
He nodded appreciatively. “Lord Ashmore’s spared no expense. A superb tawny vintage from the house of Burmester. 1890, I believe. Pick will regret missing this.”
“Haven’t you had enough champagne?” a groomsman at their table asked a bridesmaid.
“But it’s so deliciously bubbly.” Joanna giggled. She was even more tipsy than Freddy, evidenced by the alcohol stains on her pink silk bridesmaid’s dress.
Eliza raised her champagne flute. “It tickles my nose.”
Alice brushed food crumbs from her own bridesmaid gown, which was a muted shade of rose. “I heard the Prince of Wales used to bathe in a red copper tub filled with champagne.”
“I’ll have to try that.” Freddy lifted his arm. “Hallo, waiter! Come bring another round.”
“No, thank you.” Eliza shook her head when the young man approached their table, his gloved hands holding the napkin-wrapped bottle. “We’ve had plenty here.”
Freddy next hailed a passing guest. “Aunt Lavender! Come join us.” He rose to his feet along with the other gentleman at their table. “This is my mother’s younger sister, Mrs. Lavender Stratton. We call her Aunt Lavender, of course. She’s a most successful painter, even more famous than her late husband. And she’s a Bohemian, too. You’ll find her awfully fun.” After hiccupping twice, Freddy finished the introductions.
“How do you do.” Higgins held out her chair. “Please have a seat.”
Eliza placed a cup of coffee in Freddy’s hand. “Drink it all. And don’t even think about asking for more champagne. Clara will box your ears if you get drunk.”
Relieved when Freddy began to sip his coffee, Eliza turned her attention to Aunt Lavender. She noted that her wavy blond hair matched the tresses of her niece and nephew, and she had the same lovely blue eyes. However Lavender looked a good ten years younger than Clara and Freddy’s mother. Eliza also was delighted by her daring ensemble: a blue silk suit by celebrated designer Paul Poiret. She read in the fashion magazines that the form-fitting outfit was inspired by men’s attire from something called the Consulate period. And while some guests cast disapproving glances Lavender’s way, Eliza admired the boldness of the gold and red embellishment on the low-cut bodice, along with the velvet toque that crowned her head. Bohemian indeed.
“Professor, is it true your niece’s husband was recently killed in an automobile explosion?” Lavender said. “How tragic.”
“I prefer to view it as unexpected,” he replied.
“I read about that in the paper,” Alice said. “My condolences to your family.”
“Thank you. But we are recovering quite nicely from the death.” Higgins smiled at Freddy’s aunt. “I admit to being something of a fan, Mrs. Stratton. My friend Colonel Pickering took me to see your murals this summer at the Omega artists’ exhibition in Bloomsbury Square.”
“I was honored to be included. The artists who are part of the Omega Workshops are sure to make an impact on modern design. And it’s freeing to use the Greek symbol instead of one’s name. I do appreciate your kind words, Professor. Many others have not been as polite.”
Eliza laughed. “The Professor’s been called many things. ‘Polite’ has never been one of them.”
“Ignore our impudent maid of honor,” Higgins said. “Ever since I taught her to speak like a proper lady, her impertinence knows no bounds.”
“Hang proper ladies,” Lavender said. “I’d much rather spend time with the impudent and the impertinent.”
Higgins cocked his head at her. “I hear a touch of Surrey dialect in your speech, accompanied by Queen’s College and Bloomsbury. Edinburgh, too.”
“Well done. I spend a month in Edinburgh every summer. And I attended Queens College. As for my Surrey intonations, I resided in the county for three years. Molesey, a bit west of Hampton Court.” She gave him an approving smile. “So it’s true you have the ability to place a person within a few streets of their origin, Professor. A most remarkable talent.”
Higgins only shrugged, although Eliza knew he was pleased.
“Have you met the Misras?” Eliza asked. “They’re the Indian couple sitting by the fountain. I adore how beautifully they dress. A pity we can’t all wear saris.”
“Oh, I should love to parade about a London soiree in one. So dramatic.” Lavender leaned closer to her. “I’ve recently acquired a harem outfit from Constantinople. Sky blue gauze and completely transparent.” She glanced over at the Indian couple. “I wondered who that striking pair was. I assumed Richard met them when he served in India.”
“Actually they’re friends of Lady Winifred Ossler.”
“I’m acquainted with Lady Winifred. She has a cousin in the Bloomsbury group, the painter Duncan Grant. And she encouraged Lord Ashmore’s father to support our work, even though he rather disapproved of us. We cannot thank her enough for that.”
“I didn’t realize Winifred was on such friendly terms with the old baron,” Higgins said.
“She met Baron Ashmore in India years ago when he traveled to the subcontinent to collect antiquities. They hit it off rather well.” Her smile turned catlike. “Whenever she came back to England on holiday, she was a house guest here at Banfield.”
“Then she’s friends with the Dowager Baroness as well,” Eliza commented.
“My goodness, no. Why would you think that?”
“She’s an invited guest.” Eliza was puzzled. “According to Clara, her new mother-in-law invited her. Richard barely knows Lady Winifred.”
“Dear Eliza – may I call you Eliza? – in the social circles in which the Ashmores and the Osslers move, friendship has little to do with who is on the guest list. Lady Winifred’s husband is held in high regard by Lord Curzon, who is an important man. That makes his friends important. For Lady Winifred to be snubbed would cause a scandal. But you may notice the Dowager Baroness has barely spoken to her. And there are at least four other ladies here who are also receiving a chilly reception from Richard’s mother.” She raised a carefully penciled eyebrow. “The old baron not only collected art. He collected women.”
A swan suddenly thrust its head next to Lavender’s arm. As she gave a startled shriek, the swan snatched a leafy green from one of the salad plates before fleeing over the lawn.
“There are far too many birds at this wedding,” she said, looking about nervously. “During the breakfast, one of the doves took a piece of bread right out of my hand.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the reception ends with a grouse shoot,” Higgins said drily.
“Well, I rather like the peacocks.” Eliza gave another raspberry to the peacock who sat just behind her chair. The darling thing had stayed there quietly for the better part of an hour. She suspected this was the same bird who had followed her about since the reception began.
“Stop feeding them,” Higgins ordered. “You’ll have the whole flock upon us.”
“Oh, be quiet. All this fuss over a few birds.” She threw her last raspberry to the peacock, who gobbled it up. “There you go. Good boy!”
“I hope Clara and Richard send every single bird off to their estate in Richmond,” Freddy grumbled. “I refuse to visit them if any swans and peacocks remain here.”
“Ah, there’s my sister,” Lavender announced. “She’s speaking with the wedding photographer. I’ve been wondering where she is. She looks a bit strained, don’t you think?”
Freddy stood. “Mother’s probably suffering from another migraine. This wedding has been a bit too much for her nerves. I should see if she’s all right.”
“We both should.” Lavender and Freddy excused themselves and walked over to Mrs. Eynsford Hill.
“How much longer until we can go home?” Higgins asked with an exaggerated sigh.
“Blimey, keep your knickers on. They haven’t even cut the cake yet.”
“I’m not the only one who’s restless. Even the Misras are pacing about.”
The Indian couple had been strolling about the lawn for much of the reception. Taral wore a plum-colored jacket and matching turban; Basanti looked enchanting in a coral sari edged with gold tassels. Her shiny black hair hung in a long braid covered by shimmering gold threads. They were accompanied by Lady Winifred, who was nearly as resplendent in a cloud gray satin brocade gown.
“Follow me,” Eliza said.
Swallowing the last of his port, Higgins trailed after her. So did the peacock.
Eliza called out Basanti’s name, prompting the couple and Lady Winifred to wait until she and Higgins joined them.
Chuckling, Taral pointed at the peacock who stood behind Eliza, his feathers fanned out in full display. “He seems most fascinated by you, Miss Doolittle.”
Eliza smiled. “I think he’s in love.”
“I think he’s waiting for more raspberries,” Higgins observed.
“It is a most splendid day for a wedding,” Basanti said. “The bride looks charming.”
Lady Winifred nodded. “Lady Duff-Gordon may be the finest dress designer in Britain.”
“I’m happy everything has gone as planned,” Eliza said. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder for the next disaster to happen.”
“You should not worry.” Basanti patted her arm. “There are so many people here and the servants are watching everyone. It will be fine.” She gazed in approval at Eliza. “And your dress is most becoming. You are the maid of the bride?”
“Yes, the maid of honor. And thank you.” Eliza loved her gossamer peony silk gown embroidered with lace roses that flowed in a bead-lined chevron pattern. A darker satin sash cinched below the bust. “The matron of honor, Lady Tansy, is over there. She’s the one wearing a diamond choker and tiara.”
Eliza thought the snobbish viscountess had deliberately showed up the other bridesmaids – and even the bride – by wearing such lavish jewelry. But she seemed in an ill temper nonetheless. As expected, her husband, Lord Saxton, sat slumped in his seat, drunk and leering at every young woman who passed his table.
“Basanti and I are surprised to see those trees.” Taral pointed at two odd-looking small trees in large pots standing on either side of the musicians. “They’re Indian jujube. I did not think they would grow in such an inhospitable climate.”
“They have to be sheltered in the greenhouse most of the year,” Lady Winifred said. “The tree is also called the Indian cherry. The late baron loved the fruit.”
“I’ve been told you’ve visited Banfield Manor often,” Eliza said.
“Many times. The Baron was such an intelligent gentleman, and so generous to his tenants and friends. A great patron of the arts. I am hoping his son follows in his footsteps.”
“Once again, I must admire the jewelry both of you are wearing.” Eliza nodded first towards the dazzling gold necklace, headband, and scalloped earrings of Basanti, then turned her attention to Lady Winifred’s ruby bracelet and coiled snake pin, also glittering with rubies.
Both women murmured their thanks.
“When I walked up the aisle during the wedding ceremony, I noticed you were only wearing one earring, Lady Winifred,” Eliza continued. “It would be a pity if you lost the other.”
Winifred checked her earlobes with a gasp. “You’re right. I’m missing one. I remember re-adjusting them in the car because the screws weren’t tight enough.” She frowned. “I do hope I haven’t lost it at the church or out here on the lawn. As you can see, the earring is made of gold and rubies. My husband will not be pleased if I’ve lost one of them. They were a gift for my fortieth birthday.”
“Would you like us to look for it?” Eliza asked.
“Oh, no. I’m sure I’ll find it. Perhaps one of the servants has already done so. Some of them remember me from my visits to Banfield Manor.”
“Did you know the Smith family? They were members of the staff at Banfield. The organist who played at the church, Thaddeus Smith, spent some time here as a child. The Ashmores paid for his education.”
Winifred thought a moment. “Yes, I remember now. His father was a groundskeeper.”
“I saw a portrait in the stairway of Richard’s father as a young man.” Eliza lowered her voice. “It seems Mr. Smith bears a strong resemblance. The same red hair, nose and chin.”
Higgins arched an eyebrow. “You’re right.”
“If you’re asking if Mr. Smith is the Baron’s natural son, I have no idea. But it wouldn’t surprise me or the Dowager Baroness. It’s no secret the late Lord Ashmore funded the education of a number of well deserving boys. Mr. Smith should count himself lucky if he was one of them.” Winifred touched her bare earlobe once more. “Now I should take my leave of the bridal couple. I must return to London in time to catch the train to Dover. I leave England tomorrow.”
“Returning to India?” Higgins asked.
“Singapore first, then Bangkok, Calcutta, and finally Bombay.” She sighed. “I can’t wait to go home. I’ve been gone for months. My husband must think I’ve deserted him.”
“Basanti and I owe you much thanks for your kind assistance here in London,” Taral said solemnly. “When we return, we would be honored to host you once again in Mysore.”
“I look forward to it.” She shook each of their hands. “I’m grateful to have spent time with all of you. Enjoy the rest of the day. And please give my best wishes for a quick recovery to the Colonel.” With that, Lady Winifred was gone in a swirl of satin brocade.
Eliza turned to Basanti. “In India, are snakes considered good luck or bad luck?”
“Only the best luck, unless you have harmed one.” Basanti lifted her long braid by the tassels to show her a serpentine design in gold. “Snakes are the protectors of Indian temples, like the Temple of Parvati in Mysore. Cobras, kraits, and vipers guarded every room—”
Her husband interrupted. “They were all killed when the English looted it.”
“To kill a sacred snake brings ill fortune,” Basanti said in a hushed voice. “The Curse of the Cobra was brought on when the holy temple was torn apart and taken away.”
“Clara is extremely nervous about this curse,” Eliza said.
“The groom seems unmoved by her fears.” Taral frowned. “He still refuses to part with any of the temple.”
“He may change his mind,” Eliza said. “Give his bride time to convince him.”
They all turned to watch the newlyweds mingle with their guests. Richard looked exceedingly handsome in his red officer’s uniform, a ceremonial sword swinging from a scabbard hanging at his waist. As for Clara, Lady Duff-Gordon had outdone herself designing her cream satin bridal gown. The short sleeves ended in embroidered scallops, and a rose-shaped satin bow drew the eye to Clara’s tiny waist, where the bodice came to a V. On either side of a gossamer inset, the full skirt flowed down to end in a swirl of embroidered edging. The train dropped a full eighty inches from her shoulders, and a pearl tiara crowned Clara’s long tulle veil.
Lord Ashmore’s money had been well spent at Maison Lucile.
Excusing themselves from the Misras, Eliza and Higgins walked towards the couple. Eliza’s peacock followed, letting out a piercing cry whenever the mood struck him.
“It’s tradition for an Ashmore groom to take his new bride into the rose-shaped maze here,” Richard was saying to the group. “My great-grandfather had a folly built in the center of the maze. Unlike most other follies, this one is a facsimile of an Indian temple to celebrate his lifelong love of India and its art. Once I take Clara there, I shall surprise my beautiful bride with a family heirloom.”
Clara giggled. “I’ve been told to expect jewelry.”
“I hope we can enjoy a little privacy, too.” Richard kissed her with passion, eliciting cheers from all the guests.
When Clara spotted Eliza, she rushed over to her. “Isn’t Richard wonderful?”
“He seems perfect. And I’m glad you’re so happy.”
“I was worried at the breakfast, Eliza. Before Richard ate a bite, I made Julian taste every course first. He was such a good sport about it.”
“Since the police are in the kitchens, I doubt there was ever much chance of the food being poisoned,” Higgins reminded her.
“Thank goodness you and Richard are spending your wedding night here at Banfield Manor. Which means there will be no bombs in cars today.” Eliza felt a little more relaxed with each passing moment. Luther North was still at large, but every detective at Scotland Yard knew what he looked like. How could he possibly sneak into this wedding reception unnoticed?
After Clara rejoined Richard, Higgins nudged Eliza. “I see Thaddeus Smith. We should speak to him.”
“He looks as gloomy as ever,” Eliza said.
“Mr. Smith,” Higgins called. The organist turned, standing in almost exactly the same manner that Eliza had noted in the late Baron’s portrait. Yes, the resemblance was striking.
When they reached Smith, Eliza gave him a sunny smile. “Such a fine day. We should all celebrate the fact that everything has gone off without a hitch.”
“Why should I be celebrating? This isn’t my wedding. And the new baron is little more than a stranger to me.” He shrugged. “At least he seems a decent chap. To be honest, being at Banfield again makes me rather ill.”
“I don’t understand,” Eliza said. “You told me your parents met and married here. And after the Boer War, the Ashmores were kind enough to rehire your parents.”
“Kindness had nothing to do with it. The offer was prompted by guilt and duty.”
“But the late baron did fund your education,” Eliza said.
“I’m grateful for that. But I’ve struggled for more than twenty years ever since. I’m five and forty now, with not much to show for it.” He stared intently at Clara and Richard on the lawn’s far side, still surrounded by friends. “And there’s the richest baron in Britain, with a golden haired bride to adore him. Just twenty-eight years old, but he’s heir to the Ashmore estates, the art collection, the army of servants who will obey his every whim. Why should life be so carefree and bounteous for him, and so difficult and trying for me?”
“Because he’s the 5th Baron of Ashmore,” Eliza reminded him.
Smith shot her a shrewd glance. “Is he?” He walked off into the crowd without so much as a by your leave.
“That man bears watching,” Higgins said.
“Jack’s keeping an eye on all the guests. Especially those who were at the other weddings.” A movement in the distance caught her attention. “Looks like Richard is finally taking Clara into the maze. I hope they don’t spend too long in there. They’re supposed to cut the cake right afterward.”
Higgins laughed. “Is food all you think about?”
“No. Sometimes I think about shopping.”
They watched as the newlyweds dodged several swans and peacocks on their way over the verdant lawn until they reached the maze. Doves fluttered above the arched trellis entrance as they vanished inside. Eliza breathed a sigh of relief as she and Higgins headed for the tea tent.
“Miss Doolittle?” Taral Misra hurried over to them. “I hope you do not think my wife and I are imagining things. Everyone here was instructed to stay out of the maze. Yet we saw a groundskeeper enter the maze a few minutes before the bride and groom did. The couple were too far away for me to call out to them. It is also very noisy on these lawns. So many people. And all these birds.”
“Perhaps the groundskeeper was chasing after the peacocks,” Higgins said.
“No. And there is something else.” His expression grew positively foreboding. “It is possible I am mistaken. I only saw the man one time at Mr. Farrow’s memorial service. But Basanti and I believe the groundskeeper who went into the maze resembled Lady Winifred’s chauffeur. The man you call Luther North.”
“What? Where’s Jack?” Eliza looked around wildly, as if the Scotland Yard detective would conveniently fall from the sky. “And Detective Ramsey?”
But there were three hundred guests milling about the lawn and tents, and a virtual sea of servants. A musical quintet played from the terrace, and the noise level of the birds had risen to a crescendo. If she called for help, who would hear her? Meanwhile, Clara and Richard had unknowingly entered the maze shortly after the man who murdered Pearl, Winterbottom, and Farrow. Eliza felt such a wave of fear that she started to shake.
“Mr. Misra, ask every man here if he works for Scotland Yard,” she ordered. “Find a policeman as quick as you can. Tell them about Luther. And tell them the Professor and I have gone into the maze.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” Taral rushed off into the crowd.
A footman carrying a tray of dishes and serving utensils walked by. Eliza grabbed a large cake knife from his tray. Ignoring the fellow’s startled expression, she set off for the maze.
Higgins had no choice but to follow her. “We should wait for the police.”
“It might be too late. We’ve got to go now!” Eliza broke into a run. She heard Higgins’s labored breathing behind her. When she reached the trellised entrance of the maze, she stopped. The hedge walls were much taller than they seemed when she was sitting near the terrace. She peeked inside but saw only curved paths of stiff greenery. So this was what a maze looked like.
Higgins caught up to her. “Please remember I’m twice your age. I haven’t recovered from chasing after you in Bluegate Fields. Or the explosion that killed Winterbottom.”
She pointed at the maze’s entrance. “It looks huge.”
“And it’s also reputed to be one of the most difficult mazes in Britain.”
“Clara and Richard don’t know what’s waiting for them inside. We can’t stay out here while Luther does some bloody awful thing to them. We can’t!”
“I agree.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go in.”
As soon as they stepped into the maze, the tall hedge walls towered over them. “Which way?” Higgins looked at the various curving paths.
“Follow me.” Eliza darted along the path to their right. She and Higgins went one way, then another, turning right and left until a wall of greenery blocked them.
“We need to start over. Let’s retrace our steps.” Higgins paused. “If we can.”
Frantic, Eliza jumped up and down, trying to peek over the hedges. “If only we could see over the tops of all this bloody shrubbery. Professor, lace your fingers together like this.” She demonstrated, then placed both hands on his shoulders and one heeled shoe into the makeshift step of his locked fingers. Eliza boosted herself up, but failed to clear the hedge’s top. “It’s no good. I can’t see over it.”
Dejected, Eliza dropped to the ground. Even Higgins looked discouraged. They trudged along for another five minutes, returning to a different path, yet getting nowhere.
They were lost.