A Matter of Magic (29 page)

“St. Clair?” Andrew said. “You mean
St. Clair
stole the Saltash Set? I don’t believe it.”

“There, you see?” said the Baron.

“Not so fast,” Mairelon said. “I want to hear him out.”

Robert nodded. “Let him have his say.”

“He’s a gutter-bred criminal!” St. Clair snapped. “I give you my word as a peer of the realm—”

Dan’s high, half-hysterical laughter cut off whatever Lord St. Clair had planned to say. “Peer of the realm! The only reason you’re the peer and I’m the gutter brat is that our blue-blooded father was too high in the instep to marry a kitchen maid, though he wasn’t above giving her a tumble.”

“Good Lord,” breathed Mairelon, looking from Dan to St. Clair. “So that’s it.”

“This discussion is highly improper,” Lady Granleigh announced. “Marianne, cover your ears. I recommend that you do the same, Miss D’Auber, though I am well aware that French persons do not have any real delicacy of mind.”

Everyone, including Marianne, was too busy studying the two men to pay any attention to Lady Granleigh. The resemblance between them was marked. Kim remembered how shaken she had been by her first glimpse of Lord St. Clair, when she had thought for a moment that he
was
Dan Laverham, and cursed herself mentally for not guessing the truth before. But who would have pegged Dan for gentry blood, even on the wrong side of the blanket?

St. Clair looked a trifle pale, but seemed otherwise unmoved by the intense scrutiny. “This does not change matters at all,” he said. “Your wild accusations are clearly the delusions of a mind deranged by jealousy. I am very sorry you have been subjected to this, Lady Granleigh,
but I venture to hope that you will not hold my father’s indiscretion against me.”

Dan laughed again, bitterly. “Still wanting to have your cake and eat it, too, Gregory? You were pleased enough with me as long as you could make use of my services. You shouldn’t have lied to me about the Saltash Set, though. If I’d known it was magical, I’d never have split it up to sell.”

“You ’ad this ’ere dish as all the fuss is over?” William Stuggs put in unexpectedly. “ ’Ow did that ’appen?”

“Fenton was my man,” Dan said, speaking directly to St. Clair. “He wouldn’t have dreamed of cracking a crib without cutting me in. You didn’t know that when you told him to keep mum about it, did you?”

“Be quiet, Daniel,” Lord St. Clair said.

“Why? I told you, this time you’re going to lose, one way or another.”

“No.” St. Clair sounded regretful, almost sad. “You may make my life a little difficult for a time, but even if everyone here believes you, it won’t make any real difference. Bow Street won’t take the word of a criminal against that of a Baron, and without Fenton you have no proof of anything you say. There will be rumors, of course, and one or two houses may shut their doors to me for a time, but nothing more serious than that. It’s one of the advantages of my position, you see.”

Dan Laverham growled and lunged again. St. Clair stood quietly, smiling slightly as Andrew and Robert fought Dan back under control.

“There, you,” Robert panted. “Now, before you continue, would one of you mind explaining why that”—he waved a free hand at the Saltash Platter, then had to grab Dan’s arm again—“is so all-fired important? I’m getting tired of not knowing what, exactly, is going on.”

“It’s perfectly plain,” Jonathan said. “The Sacred Dish—”

“Oh, stop nattering about the Sacred Dish,” Robert begged. “This is serious, Jon.”

“Quite serious,” Mairelon said over Jonathan’s spluttered protests. “This is—”

“—the Saltash Platter, part o’ a set as was stolen from the Royal College of Wizards upwards o’ five years ago, by a person or persons unknown,” said William Stuggs. He smiled seraphically over Jack Stower’s shoulder
at the circle of surprised faces, and before the surprise could turn to speculation he added, “I ’ate to disconvenience the Quality-like, but I ’ave to inform you that you, Lord Gregory St. Clair, and you, Mr. Daniel Laverham, and this cove ’ere, ’oose name I ain’t ’ad the dubious pleasure of bein’ told, are all under arrest in the name o’ the Law, for the theft o’ the Saltash Set, breakin’ an’ enterin’, ’olding a lot o’ respectable folk at gunpoint, an’ one or two other things as are against the Law o’ the Realm.”

“He’s a Runner!” Kim burst out before she thought.

“Jasper, you fool!” said Lady Granleigh, too angry to remember that her brother was still comatose on the hearthstone.

“Good Lord!” said Andrew. “Miss D’Auber, did you know?”

“It is to me a great surprise also,” Renée D’Auber assured him. “It is entirely a good thing after all, however, since Monsieur St. Clair and that person with the pistols are arrested, so I shall not repine in the least.”

“Well, well,” Mairelon said. He stepped forward, holding out the Saltash Platter to Stuggs. “I expect you’ll want this as evidence?”

“I fear not,” St. Clair put in. Kim looked back at him and froze. He was holding one of Dan’s pistols trained on Stuggs, who stood between him and the door, and his expression was grim. “Or rather, you may want it, but you won’t have it.”

“Don’t shoot!” Jack Stower pleaded, twisting in Stuggs’s grip in a vain effort to get out of Lord St. Clair’s line of fire. “I ain’t no nabbing cull! Don’t shoot me!”

“You can’t shoot all of us with only one pistol,” Mairelon said gently to St. Clair, ignoring Jack’s frantic cries.

“Quite true,” Lord St. Clair agreed. His left arm shot out and grabbed Marianne, who shrieked loudly as he pulled her close and pointed the pistol at her head. “But I doubt that any of you will let the young lady be hurt just to keep me here. I shall let her go in Dover, when I board the packet for France—provided, of course, that no one does anything foolish.”

“Here, now!” Freddy expostulated. “What d’you think you’re doing?”

“Lord St. Clair!” Lady Granleigh exclaimed in tones of shock.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Andrew said to St. Clair.

“He certainly would,” Mairelon said to Andrew. “I think you had better
move away from the door, Stuggs. Your superiors will have to be content with half a haul this time.”

St. Clair smiled and started forward, dragging Marianne along with him, as Stuggs reluctantly moved aside. “Don’t forget the platter, Merrill,” St. Clair said, turning his head slightly.

At that precise moment, Freddy Meredith stepped in front of Gregory St. Clair and astonished the entire company by knocking him down. His success was due only partially to his catching St. Clair completely off guard; Kim had to admit that the blow had been a regular wisty castor. Lord St. Clair fell backward, discharging his pistol into the ceiling above the hearth. A shower of plaster descended on Jonathan and the unfortunate Jasper, who coughed, choked, and sat up at last, holding his head and moaning.

“Well struck!” Robert said after a stunned moment.

“Dash it all, Freddy, that was a stupid trick to pull!” Jonathan complained, brushing at the plaster dust that covered his shoulders. “I might have been shot!”

“Oh,
Freddy
!” said Marianne, throwing her arms around him in ecstasy. “How
brave
!”

“Get up, you villain, and I’ll do it again,” Freddy said. “Dashed lot of nerve you’ve got, bullying ladies and frightening Marianne.”

St. Clair did not reply. He lay sprawled on the floor, his top hat gone and his hair disarranged, staring at Freddy as if he could not believe what had happened.

“I knew he was a regular Captain Sharp,” Kim said with considerable satisfaction to no one in particular.

To her surprise, Mairelon answered her. “Yes, you did, and very right you were, too. Just hand that other bit of cord to Andrew, will you, Kim? Then look around for something to tie St. Clair. I’ll feel considerably happier when all three of them are, er, secure.”

“That’s good sense, gov’ner,” Stuggs said approvingly. “An’ pick up them other pops while you’re at it. They ’adn’t ought to be lyin’ about for the likes o’ ’im to get ’is ’ands on.”

“There ain’t no rope or string or anything,” Kim said, picking up the second piece of cord and Dan’s other pistol. “I already looked.”

“Amelia?” Jasper’s voice rose querulously from the hearth. “What’s happening? Have you got the platter?”

“You imbecile!” Lady Granleigh stalked to her brother’s side, the better to berate him. “Fool! That man of yours is a Bow Street Runner!”

“Stuggs? Don’t be silly, Amelia. Monkton recommended him; he’d hardly send me a Runner, now, would he?”

Mairelon glanced at the two of them, then took the cord and pistol from Kim and walked over to Laverham, Robert, and Andrew. He handed the cord to his brother and said, “Tie him up.”

“Of course,” Andrew answered. “Richard—”

“In a minute, Andrew. Mr., er, Stuggs, I believe you’ll find this useful, at least until we’ve gotten things sorted out.” Mairelon handed Stuggs the pistol, then tapped Freddy, who was still glaring pugnaciously at Lord St. Clair, on the shoulder.

“I think this would be a good moment for a discreet departure,” he said when Freddy turned. He nodded his head in the direction of Lady Granleigh and her brother, quarreling in front of the fireplace.

“What?” said Freddy. “Oh, I see. Good of you to mention it. Come on, Marianne.” He abandoned St. Clair to Stuggs and the pistol, and he and Marianne slipped out the open door.

“That was very kind,” Renée D’Auber said to Mairelon. “But have you not perhaps made for yourself more trouble?”

“I’m sure of it,” Mairelon said cheerfully. “But I believe I owe Lady Granleigh one, for setting her unspeakable brother on me, and I can’t think of a better way of evening the score.”

“It seems singularly appropriate,” Robert said, stepping forward. “But I would like to point out that I still haven’t had my explanation. Not in any way that is remotely satisfactory, that is. I don’t suppose you’d care to try again?”

“Good luck,” Kim said under her breath. She gave the rest of the dropped pistols to Mairelon, then sat on a nearby footstool to watch. Andrew and Renée were both looking expectantly at Mairelon, Jonathan was scowling at him, and any minute now Lady Granleigh would realize that her wealthy ward had managed to escape again. It ought to be better than a Drury Lane comedy.

Mairelon set the Saltash Platter on the seat of a high-backed chair and put the pistols Kim had given him on top of it. When he turned back to the group, he was no longer smiling. “Yes, there do seem to be a number of loose ends,” he said. “For instance, what are you doing here, Renée?”

“It is as your brother has said,” Mademoiselle D’Auber replied. She thought for a moment, then added scrupulously, “For the most part.”

“We came because Miss D’Auber had heard there was a Runner on your trail,” Andrew put in.

“And you wished to assist him?” Mairelon said politely.

“No!” Andrew looked hurt. “I—we came to warn you. And to help you, if we could, though I suppose you’ve no reason to believe that.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Kim the Bow Street Runners were about?” Mairelon asked Renée. “Why the meeting? And why weren’t you there?”

“Meeting?” Andrew stared at Renée D’Auber in surprised speculation. “You didn’t tell me anything about a meeting.”

“But of course not,” Renée said. She gave the brothers a brilliant smile. “You have both got the heads of pigs, and if I had told you”—she nodded at Mairelon—“that Monsieur Merrill the elder was here, you would have said a great many things of no politeness and gone away without seeing him, because you thought he did not believe you. And if I had told you”—she glared at Andrew—“that we were to meet with your brother, you would have made a great many excuses of no merit and not have come, because you did not want to face him and admit you made the mistake five years ago. That is why I was late,” she added, turning to Mairelon. “He was being difficult.”

“Difficult?
I
was being difficult?” Andrew was almost beyond speech.

“Do you mean to say that you dragged Andrew down here to force
the two of us to make up with each other?” Mairelon demanded with equal incredulity.

Renée opened her eyes very wide. “But of course. This feud was all very well when you were in France and he was here, but it would be altogether tiresome if you were both in England, and me, I do not like the things tiresome. So I thought I would arrange it.”

The brothers exchanged a look of complete accord, and Kim suppressed a grin. That served Mairelon a bit of his own sauce! Stuggs shook his head sadly. “French,” he explained to the room at large.

“And you weren’t looking for the Saltash Platter?” Mairelon asked Renée, though Kim could tell from his tone that he did not really have doubts any longer.

“It would have been a very good thing, I think, if I could have gotten it,” Renée answered, unperturbed. “For then we should not have had all this confusion which you have still not explained in the least.”

“But for yourself?”

“For me?” Renée looked at Mairelon with convincing horror. “But no! Only consider! The Saltash Platter makes persons speak the truth, and that would have been of all things the most inconvenient.”

Kim laughed. Mairelon looked at her with an affronted expression, which only made her laugh harder. Slowly Mairelon began to smile. “Yes, under the circumstances, I can see where it would have been, er, inconvenient.”

Lady Granleigh chose this moment to stop abusing her brother and turn back to the rest of the room. “Marianne, it is high time—where is Marianne?”

“Gone,” Mairelon answered helpfully.

Jonathan snickered, and Lady Granleigh rounded on him. “It is not humorous, young man! Stand aside,” she commanded Stuggs. “I must leave at once, to prevent my ward from throwing herself away on that lamentably foolish young man.”

“I ’ave my duty,” Stuggs said, not moving. “And I ’ave one or two questions as you ought to answer, beggin’ your pardon for the inconvenience.”

“Of course, you could always pay a call in Bow Street later,” Mairelon
put in as Lady Granleigh stared, unable to believe that Stuggs had not immediately followed her orders. “It would cause quite a sensation among the
ton
; you might even set a new fashion.”