A Lady in Disguise (21 page)

Thorpe said, looking again out the window, “You shouldn’t be here alone with me.”

“Shouldn’t I? Why not?”

“It’s wrong. I now see how wrong I have been to let you...”

‘To let me? To let me what?”

“Believe I had some affection for you.” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.

“And you do not?”

“No!”

“And should I choose to believe you have?” She slid her hand over the arm of his dark coat, knowing the danger and relishing it.

Thorpe shuddered. “Go away, Lillian.” Then she was in his arms, and they were tighter around her than they’d ever been before, so tight that she could scarcely draw breath, but she cared not. He held on to her as though she were his only hope to be saved, even as he said, “You’re nothing to me but my daughter’s governess.”

“Did you tell them that?”

“Yes. I never thought... I have been master here so long, that I never thought how my actions would seem in other eyes. When that puppy congratulated me on my mistress, when my friends either shook their heads at my flaunting you or wondered where I am going to install you, I became terrified. I looked coldly at you out of cowardice. I’m so afraid I’ve ruined you.”

Slowly, as he spoke, his arms relaxed, and his head dropped onto Lillian’s smooth shoulder. She held him now, soothingly, and did not find him heavy. “If I am ruined, it is through my own efforts,” she said, pressing a kiss to his temple.

He straightened, no longer lost. His hands dropped on Lillian’s shoulders. “I don’t believe in this, anymore. This is what I felt for Emily, and she ...” he lifted his big shoulders. The first month we were married was the happiest of my life. That was before she let me see she’d married me only for my fortune.”

“She was a fool,” Lillian whispered, but he did not listen.

“You must leave my employ, Lillian. If you stay, you will be what they’ve called you, because I won’t be able to control myself. It’s been difficult enough not finding my way to your chamber every evening you’ve been here. God, has it only been a week since I first saw you at the inn at Mottisbury?”

“Eight days.”

Lillian watched as Thorpe relaxed once again into the moderate, thinking man she knew so well. She wanted to break his control and bring him into her arms again by doing something outrageous, like tearing open her bodice or pressing her lips passionately to his. But his next words put any such coup de main into the realm of the impossible.

“You’re a vicar’s daughter, and I shouldn’t be able to face myself if I took advantage of your innocence.”

That silenced her, for she’d forgotten in the midst of loving him that she’d lied to him. If she now told the truth, he might no longer feel chivalrous about her naiveté, but on the other hand he might not want her on any level. Lillian knew she’d half wished Thorpe might propose marriage, instead of refusing to offer carte blanche. Though her lie could not compare with the late Emily’s deception, Lillian dared not risk what little she had of his heart in telling the truth.

Caught in this snare, she hardly knew whether to fling herself into his arms or depart quietly. The choice was taken from her when the door to the library was yanked open and Lady Genevieve all but fell into the room.

“Grandmother?” Thorpe said, brushing past Lillian to go to the old woman’s side. He offered Lady Genevieve his arm. “What is the matter? You’re shaking.”

“My—my—”

“Take a breath. Take your time.”

“There is no time! My emeralds have been stolen!”

“Pardon me, sir,” Becksnaff said, appearing from nowhere, carrying a silver tray with a small bottle balanced upon it. Ever efficient, he placed the cut-glass vial beneath Lady Genevieve’s nose.

Though she grunted and coughed, the water springing to her eyes, she rapidly recovered her indignation. ‘Take it away, you dreadful person, take it away!”

“Very good, my lady.” Becksnaff bowed reverently and stood back, awaiting further instructions. Lillian saw the concern beneath his impassive exterior, betraying that the butler part of his personality did not command all of his human heart.

“Now, Grandmother,” Thorpe said, “are you certain that your jewels have been stolen? Did you remember that we placed your jewel case in my room for safekeeping?”

“Of course I remember. I’m not in my dotage yet, though the shock is enough to put me there. My maid and I went into your room to collect the case and to put my diamonds away. They do get heavy after a while.” The glittering stones no longer adorned her neck and wrists, and no rings but her wedding ring glinted on her fingers. “All the other pieces are still in their trays, but my emerald necklace is gone. Vanished! Stolen!” She frowned at Thorpe’s expression of kindly concern. “Cease staring at me as though I’ve lost my reason, if you please! Thorpe, you looked in the case before you slid it into your dresser drawer. The emeralds were there then.”

“Yes, I remember seeing them.” Thorpe spoke slowly, as if he wished he could deny it.

“Well, they are not there now.”

“Where is the case?” he asked.

“Still in your room. Since you so obviously are reluctant to believe me, perhaps you should look for yourself.” Lady Genevieve found the necessary strength to stand on her own, regarding her grandson with a displeasure nearly royal in its hauteur.

“Very well. Grandmother, I’m sure I can set your mind at ease. I’ll leave Becksnaff with you, in case the thief is still on the premises.”

‘Take him along. You’ll have more need of him than I. Should the culprit dare to show his face to me, it is not I who’d require the assistance.” At that moment, Lillian felt nothing but respect for the older woman’s indomitable spirit.

As soon as Thorpe had departed, though. Lady Genevieve tottered. Lillian hastened forward to support her. “Come and sit down, my lady,” she said, urging her toward a chair.

“I’m perfectly well. It is only that I took those stairs like a mountain goat, and then Becksnaff waving that bottle at me. Ever since I was a girl, I have abominated sal volatile. Filthy stuff!” She wrinkled her nose and sneezed.

“Bless you, my lady.”

With a convulsive gesture. Lady Genevieve freed her arm from Lillian’s, as though only just aware that the girl touched her. She said, “Come, we’ll go up too. I want to hear Thorpe apologize for doubting my word.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to. The very idea of someone stealing from this house is fantastic ... but if you say it happened, I believe you.”

“You are a sensible person. But then you are a woman and that makes for sense. But come. Let us go up.”

The stairs tired Lady Genevieve. “Stairs are an invention of the devil. Why we cannot all remain on one floor.. . ?” In spite of her grumbles, she set off at a goodly pace down the long corridor the instant they reached the top.

In his master’s bedchamber, Becksnaff stood discreetly out of the way. Thorpe stared at the opened satinwood case on top of his chest of drawers, his green eyes darkened by anger. He turned at the women’s entrance.

“Forgive me for doubting you, Grandmother. I have never known you to be less than meticulous in putting away your jewelry. Yet these boxes are not in their proper order at all.”

“How can you tell?” Lillian asked. Looking into the case, she saw that each set of jewelry had an open tray to itself. Together, the collection dazzled the eyes, but they did not seem to fit into the box in any certain way.

Lady Genevieve said, “I am always careful that the sequence spells out my husband’s name. That way I am certain never to overlook anything.”

“What was your husband’s name?”

“Dermott.” Lady Genevieve marked off each word on her dry fingers. “Diamonds, emeralds, rubies, moonstones, opals, turquoise, topazes. Dermott always gave me extravagant presents; he deserves some commemoration.” She smiled as though in reminiscence. “How he loved to see me adorn myself! I remember how shocked Mr. Gainsborough was when Dermott suggested he paint me wearing my jewels alone—nothing else.”

“Grandmother!” Thorpe said. Lillian could not believe he actually blushed. At first she thought it was because Becksnaff remained in the room, but then Thorpe flicked his eyes in her direction. Lillian turned scarlet for another reason, imagining herself wearing nothing save gold, soon warm against her skin, while Thorpe’s eyes grew large with wonder and delight.

Thorpe said austerely, “If we may return to the matter at hand... ? It appears to me that the person who stole your necklace did not know precisely what he wanted, and considered many different pieces before seizing upon the emeralds.”

“He certainly could have taken nothing that would hurt me more. Those stones had special meaning for me.’

“We shall recover them,” Thorpe said sternly.

“Sir,” Mr. Becksnaff began, “I wish to assure you that none of the staff—”

“No need,” Thorpe interrupted, holding up his hand. “I know their value. Nevertheless, perhaps you could question them, to discover if anyone saw something suspicious tonight.”

“I shall ask, sir, but I feel certain they were all too busy with the arrangements for this evening to have seen anything.” The butler bowed and departed.

Lillian, unneeded at the moment, looked about Thorpe’s chamber. She was pleased by what she saw. Here was no spindly lacquer work lavished with gold, no crocodiles, no undraped Roman maidens. All was neatness and simplicity, the only gleam to distract the eye from the furniture’s noble lines that of old wood lovingly polished. The windows faced east, and Lillian thought of long lazy mornings with the sunlight streaming across the big bed, after its heavy satin curtains had been pulled back.

Her hand brushed over the thick coverlet, as she enjoyed the cool smoothness of the fabric. Feeling eyes upon her, Lillian stayed her hand. As a blush mantled her cheeks, she met Thorpe’s gaze and felt that his thoughts moved along the same path as her own. She found herself recalling in complete detail the kiss they’d shared earlier. Aware that if not for Lady Genevieve, they might have continued to stare at one another until they moved into an inevitable embrace, Lillian felt strangely savage when her ladyship spoke, reminding Thorpe of her presence.

“If it is not one of the servants, Thorpe—and I really don’t see how it could be, they’ve been with us so long—if it isn’t one of them that is the thief, it must be someone else. I think it is time you began considering who.”

Mr. Grenshaw appeared in the doorway, yawning and running his hand through nearly nonexistent hair. “I say, what is this filthy row? Can’t a man sleep after dancing half the night? My feet ache and my head aches and now this! It’s much too much.” Tightening the belt of his dressing gown, he came farther into the room, shuffling in too-large slippers. He craned his neck to see past Thorpe’s shoulder. “What’s that? The old lady’s—I beg your pardon—Lady Genevieve’s jewel case?”

He poked at the delicate opals with his blunt forefinger. “Pretty trinkets, those.”

“I’m so pleased you approve of the St. Joye opals... the finest in existence save for those that belonged to the late queen of France, now in the hands of a certain upstart empress.” Lady Genevieve seemed to have lowered the temperature in her grandson’s room by more than a few degrees. Lillian wondered how the inadequately dressed Mr. Grenshaw stood it.

“Something’s amiss, what?” Mr. Grenshaw said, raising his eyebrows at Thorpe.

As though it were an effort to return his attention to anything as commonplace as a jewel theft, Thorpe said, “I’m afraid my grandmothers emerald necklace has gone missing.”

“What? Lady Genevieve, is this true? Not that one you wore to dinner our first night? What a shame. Here, Ursula, a dreadful thing.”

Mrs. Grenshaw, her head covered by a none-too-clean cap, peered around the door jamb. She waddled over to her hostess. “You poor, poor dear. Wouldn’t you like to have a lie down in my room until you feel more the thing? How devastating. You must feel simply wrung.”

‘Thank you. Fortunately, I have Miss Cole to rely on. Your arm, Miss Cole. Is there an empty chair?”

Lillian offered her shoulder and arm at once. Yet, she ventured to whisper, “If you sit down, you’ll be trapped.”

Already Mrs. Grenshaw was saying, “Yes, yes, sit down. I shall fetch you a nice hassock from my room, and a sip of water, and a bottle of smelling salts in case of faintness ... and... and ... perhaps some eau de cologne to soothe your forehead?”

“Miss Cole, you are very impertinent,” Lady Genevieve murmured even as she raised her voice to say, ‘Thank you, Mrs. Grenshaw. I am quite recovered. Thorpe, hadn’t you better summon the constable?”

“Oh, I say,” Mr. Grenshaw said hastily. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Do we not?” Lady Genevieve snapped. “Why not?”

“You don’t want to call out the Runners on your friends, do you? Think it over, my boy. Not that I mean to darken anybody’s reputation, you know, but any of ‘em could have taken it. Stick in your pocket and no one a whit the wiser. Stands to reason, all the family and servants would be downstairs seeing to the rest of the guests, not hanging about up here.”

“My friends?” Thorpe asked. “Are you suggesting that one of the guests I invited here tonight stole them?”

“That’s right. Sending the constable around to talk to that lot of choice spirits about a jewel theft and you’ll find yourself in the briars soon enough. On the outs, at least, if not called out. Social what do you call it.”

“Oh, you mustn’t risk that,” Mrs. Grenshaw said. “If you are not received anymore in the county, what will happen to poor Addy? She’s a young girl with a lifetime of Seasons and presentations to look forward to. If her father is put beyond the pale by his behavior...” She threw an arch look at Lillian, still standing close beside Lady Genevieve. “Society can be so very hard on a young girl,” Mrs. Grenshaw finished, sighing as though she already could see Addy, a shriveled old maid, longing for the lovers and laughter than never came because of her father’s social solecism in accusing his friends of theft.

“I can’t do
nothing!”
Thorpe said.