“But then things changed?” Kate murmured, prompting.

“Yes, they changed,” Lillie replied, almost as if she were not aware of Kate. “Ned became a bankrupt and we were sold up. Baliffs invaded our little Norfolk Street house and took all our furniture, even my gowns. There was no money, apart from what I was offered by my friends-but who with a brain in her head would depend on others for support? And Ned was worse than useless, of course. Not an ounce of business sense. I knew that somehow I had to provide for myself.”

Feeling that much was being omitted here, Kate asked, “Was that when you went on the stage?”

Lillie nodded. “His Highness suggested it. Then Oscar Wilde-we were great friends in those days, before his disgrace-introduced me to Harriet Labouchere. It was she who actually pushed me into it. I wasn’t eager for the public exposure, of course, but I really felt I had no other alternative. Mrs. Labouchere and I did a two-character play called The Fair Encounter-very well received, it was. My first serious role was that of Kate in She Stoops to Conquer, for the benefit of the Theatrical Fund at the Haymarket. The Prince favored my performances with his presence, and in no time at all, I was an established actress.”

“You make it sound very easy,” Kate said quietly.

“Perhaps so, my dear,” Lillie said in a confiding tone, “but true success is never easy. Behind the scenes, one must spend a great deal of time working and worrying, and continually searching for funds to support one’s efforts. I went on tour in England, and then in America, and then in England again, and so it went for the next ten years or so. Since the early nineties, though, I have more or less settled in England.” She grew still, and a reflective look came over her face. “It is enormously exhilarating to be admired, and delightful to find oneself in constant demand. But one tires of the unceasing effort.” A small, unconscious sigh escaped her lips, and she seemed to shake herself and become lively once more. “When Suggie and I are married, I think I shall give the theater a rest for a time and simply enjoy being Lady de Bathe. After I’ve produced your play, of course, dear Beryl. We mustn’t forget to talk about that.”

As Lillie talked, and as she wrote, Kate thought perhaps she had heard several true things: Lillie’s remarks about the constant work and worry and the continual search for funds. And of course she had to have tired of the unceasing effort. It must be unspeakably wearying to be always in the public eye, always on stage. How did Lillie restore herself when her energies flagged? And where in her harried, hectic life could she find any peace?

“What about your family?” Kate asked, still scribbling. “Your husband? Your mother? Your niece?” She could feel Lillie’s eyes on her, suddenly intent, as if gauging her knowledge. She glanced up, innocently. “Did they travel with you?”

“Travel with me?” Lillie laughed lightly. “Oh, my dear, no! Touring is terribly demanding. Long hours aboard ship and on dirty trains, one hotel upon another, crushing mobs at the railway stations.” She sighed theatrically. “It is a purgatory one must not inflict on one’s loved ones. Ned pursued his own affairs, of course, up to his death about a year and a half ago. Mother and Jeanne-Marie, my brother’s daughter, come to be with me when I’m in London. Jeanne-Marie has grown to be quite a lovely girl, and of course I do all I can for the child.” Her smile was indulgent. “Lessons, dresses, whatever she wants that a doting auntie can provide. The Prince has even made it possible for her to be presented at the Queen’s Drawing Room next month. And of course I’m anxious to see her make a respectable marriage and lead her own private life.” She made a wry face. “I certainly don’t want her to live as I do, eternally in the public eye.”

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

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.