A School for Brides (17 page)

“But who, then?” Miss Asquith knitted her brow and concentrated. “I don't believe that any of the other servants went near Miss le Strange—Robert showed her in and served her, and then escorted her out. And the young ladies have adequate incomes—none of them would have any reason to do such a thing, or the nerve to try it. And the same is true of the headmistresses and the gentlemen present at the star party.” Her certainty wavered when she thought of Miss Quince, but
really! Miss Quince!
It was quite as unlikely as that Robert was the culprit.

Mr. Crabbe pondered a moment. Then he said, not looking at her, “Allow me to offer you a truly suspicious character: myself.” When she frowned at this frivolity, he continued, “I am quite serious, I assure you. You may be unaware of it—though I doubt that your papa would be—but my family is in low water financially. Lord Boring is not the only man of your acquaintance possessing a parent who cannot leave a wager alone. My father has been engaged in despoiling my inheritance for as long as I have been alive. In fact, my brother, Mr. Rupert Crabbe, came to warn me of further depredations on my holdings. As matters stand, I shall almost certainly be insolvent by Christmastime.” As he came to the end of this remark, he raised his eyes and looked full at her to judge her reception of it.

“
Really?
Oh, how—That is, I am most sorry to hear it, sir,” she amended, dropping her gaze. A tiny smile flickered across her face, and then was gone. She altered her tone to reflect the gravity appropriate to one who has received such a confidence. “But in spite of your misfortunes, I decline to consider you as a contestant in our horse race. You may call it a personal prejudice on my part, but I do not believe you would choose that sort of measure to solve your difficulties.”

“I must confess that I believe you are in the right of it,” he said. “However attractive the
idea
might have been, it would have made me most uncomfortable. I should have been terrified to look the moneylender in the face, for fear he denounce me on the spot.”

Perhaps Miss Asquith
was
sorry for his financial woes, but if so, her grief was not long-lived. She smiled, turning away her head in an attempt to conceal her expression. He watched her with his head cocked to one side, considering the implications of this reaction. Then, evidently relieved of some apprehension, he returned her smile and offered her his arm. The two entered the house in perfect amity and accord.

AS MISS ROSALIND
Franklin had barely registered the existence of Robert the footman, she was largely unconcerned about his fate. The fate of a ruby necklace—a collection of aluminum oxide crystals on a string—was even less a matter of interest to her. Her assistance in the search was therefore perfunctory and brief. She was getting little sleep these nights, as she needed the hours of darkness for observing the planet Uranus. Although her eyesight was naturally sharp, the time spent peering through a lens was beginning to take its toll in the form of headaches and eyestrain. She decided to take advantage of the inhabitants of the school being occupied elsewhere for a little rest upon her bed.

Once there, however, she could not seem to find the sleep she sought. Instead, her mind lingered upon her observations. She was a fool, she knew, to try to find an even more distant planet than Uranus using Mr. Rupert Crabbe's relatively small telescope. What was needed for the task was an instrument of much greater dimensions, located in some country with clear skies and a minimum of humidity to distort the view. No, Mr. Rupert Crabbe was right; she was wasting her time. She needed to shift her attentions to something closer, something that might be viewed more readily with her limited tools. Perhaps the moon? Or the little planetoids that had been lately discovered between Mars and Jupiter? Yet some of her findings
had
been quite intriguing . . .

Fatigued by the effort to sleep, she rose from her bed and went to the window where the telescope awaited, poised to scan the skies. She stood looking out for some time, until a movement far off, on the high road in front of the school building, caught at her attention. Although she was by nature disinclined to pry into human affairs, some impulse moved her to pivot the telescope until it no longer aimed above, but rather at the scene below. She stooped, applied herself to the eyepiece, focused, and watched the little scene unfolding before her with a perplexed frown.

Even such a naif as Robert could not remain oblivious to the atmosphere around him. He had searched diligently for the missing necklace, hoping against hope that he would be the one to find and present it to a grateful Miss le Strange. His search was not based upon any rational concept of where the necklace might innocently have gotten to; he looked in the obvious places and then everywhere else, save the bedchambers of the students and of his employers. This had led him into a number of odd corners and cupboards of the school, and he had made some surprising discoveries: a publication with rather scandalous illustrations in an old trunk, a stash of sweets under a loose floorboard in the pantry, and a collection of ancient dolls arranged around a small tea table in the attic. To his delight, he even found a necklace in the lower drawer of a sewing table, but this was revealed on second inspection as a minor object, a simple string of amber beads.

From time to time the idea that
he
might be suspected of deliberately abstracting the jewels knocked at the door of his mind, but when it did, he dismissed it. He could not imagine how anyone could think such a thing—why, a necklace was a
lady's
adornment; a man would have no use for it. The very idea was ridiculous. That one could take such an item to a moneylender or jeweler and exchange it for pounds and pence was not a notion that suggested itself to him; Lesser Hoo had no moneylenders or jewelers' shops.

“You were the only one who got close to her, m'boy,” explained Mrs. Grebe, the housekeeper. “Naturally we don't think it for a moment, not for a moment!”

“The clasp must've broken, it must have,” sobbed the chambermaid.

No one said anything. Because if it had fallen underfoot, why had it not been found? Responding to this unspoken comment, the chambermaid, whose name was Annie, said defiantly, “And then anybody could have taken it!
Anybody!
”

“Now, now, then,” said Robert, patting her hand, “nobody thinks anybody
took
it! Why, that would be
stealing
!”

The other members of the staff looked at him pityingly and shook their heads.

The news of the loss of the necklace spread through the neighborhood. Sir Quentin and Lady Throstletwist were distraught when they realized that Robert had been accused. He had been raised in their household, indulged and cosseted like a favorite dog, and only reluctantly allowed to leave in order to work at Miss Hopkins's establishment. Mrs. Fredericks of Crooked Castle shook her head and said to her husband, “I
told
you it was a mistake hiring a handsome young man like that to work in a girls' academy,” although how his personal beauty had any impact on the current situation was unclear. Lady Boring said that she had always considered the management of the servants both at Yellering Hall and at the school to be almost criminally lax, and her mother-in-law, Mrs. Westing, agreed. It did not surprise either of them in the least that the footman had taken to stealing valuable necklaces.

“If I were Clara Hopkins I'd have that brooch of hers looked at as well,” said Lady Boring to Mrs. Westing. “I've no doubt he's pawned every scrap of gold he could get his hands on and replaced it with pinchbeck. And I have also heard that there is an excellent market in used buttons, whether of metal or bone, and so I should recommend a careful examination of every garment in the house.”

Mr. Bold, the vicar, had had it in mind to preach a sermon that Sunday on how the worth of a virtuous woman was above rubies and how spiritual riches were far greater than precious stones. However, after an unnerving encounter with Miss le Strange, he decided that instead, a resounding denunciation of dishonesty, bearing false witness, and ingratitude amongst the lower classes would be the wiser path.

Mr. Godalming, who was magistrate for the district, began to feel a nervous conviction that he had better do
something
definite, and soon. But what ought that to be? If he sent a constable to arrest young Robert, half the gentry hereabouts would be livid; if he did not, the other half would be. Upon further reflection, however, he concluded that the pro-Robert forces outnumbered the anti-Robert faction, and, as he was busy selecting trees to fell in the woodlot on the eastern side of his property, decided not to make any rash decisions but to sleep on it and hope that the blasted necklace would show up on its own.

Miss le Strange, as the chief member of the anti-Robert faction, was not backward in making her wants known. She said in loud and ringing tones that she wanted her necklace returned, and inquired how, precisely, the ladies of the Winthrop Hopkins Academy proposed to accomplish this.

Swallowing hard, Miss Hopkins asked after the precise value of the piece.

“As to that, I could not say,” Miss le Strange said coldly. “It was not a subject Lord Baggeshotte would discuss with me.”

“It is difficult then to know how you expect to be compensated,” began Miss Hopkins, but Miss Quince interrupted with, “In truth, I believe we shall have to contact Lord Baggeshotte. Although I realize he is ill, he deserves to know that his gift has been lost.”

“Have I not explained that he is unable to speak?” asked Miss le Strange, who sounded as if she did not care for the term
lost
, implying as it did possible carelessness on the part of the one who had lost it. “It will do you no good to contact him.”

“In that case, it is his lawyer we must inform. Unless he has made special arrangements to allow you to act for him, his lawyer will be responsible for any decisions during his incapacity. Even if the worst should happen and he dies without being able to communicate, Lord Baggeshotte's lawyer, acting for Miss Crump, will no doubt be the executor of his estate. Since you are not, in fact, his legal wife, your rights and duties are limited.”

Miss le Strange frowned and made an impatient gesture, as though waving away a cloud of irritating gnats. “I tell you, he
gave
me the necklace. It is my property, and I am his affianced bride.”

“Pardon me,” asked Miss Quince, “but have you any proof of that? Perhaps he had begun the process of working out the marriage settlements and his legal counsel would be able to confirm it?”

Miss le Strange's countenance settled into lines of yet greater hauteur. “No. I told you. It was as yet unspoken beyond our two selves.”

“Then did he not give you a ring or some token by which to solemnize the engagement?”

“He gave me the necklace!”

“Nevertheless, I believe we will contact Lord Baggeshotte and his lawyer before we take any further action.”

Miss Quince and Miss le Strange stared at each other across a few yards of air that appeared to harden into ice crystals. The onlookers waited in silent awe for whatever the outcome might be.

“Little did I think that I would come to an establishment that purports to provide young Englishwomen with an intellectual and
moral
education and be robbed blind with no recompense or satisfaction offered,” said Miss le Strange. “You have not heard the last of this, I assure you,” she said magnificently, if somewhat unoriginally, and swept from the room.

The three ladies sat in silence for a moment, looking at one another. Then Miss Winthrop put into words the sentiment that her co-headmistresses were feeling, but reluctant to express aloud: “For all that she's so well-bred, she's nothing better than a governess! I cannot
think
how we have allowed ourselves to be so bamboozled!”