Above Rubies (16 page)

“No, I shan’t inform them, but only because you’ve been a guest in my house and come from a fine family. I know your Aunt Ellen, and your father
...
well,
I’
m sorry we won’t be able to entertain you again. This house is full of temptation to young ladies who can’t resist the lure and sparkle of precious stones. I blame myself for not realising how strong such temptation can be.”

Merry wanted to cry at the sudden softening and kindliness of his voice. Her knees were trembling and she felt strangely sick.

“You may go home now,” he said gently. “If you don’t wish to meet my son and daughter, you’d better go now. It might be embarrassing for all of you.”

Merry nodded and stumbled from the room. She almost ran home, feeling again the emptiness of the Cot House as she raced past. If only Benjamin had been home. He’d never have believed her a thief, she was sure. She wanted him and needed him, but he wasn’t there. Then she remembered that she had no claim at all on his time, and felt more lonely than she had ever done in her life as she walked into Beau Ness.

“That Miss Sylvia is away, bag and baggage,” Mrs. Cameron told her angrily, as she walked into the kitchen. “Trust her to hang on here, then run away at the sight of unpleasantness! She’s a selfish young madam
!”

Merry nodded wearily.

“I knew she was going, Mrs. Cameron, but I forgot to tell you. You’ll be glad to know the ring has been found now.”

Mrs. Cameron’s face relaxed into a beaming smile.

“Och, didn’t I say so all along?” she asked, delightedly. “Was it just mislaid?”

“Something like that,” Merry told her evasively.

“A big fuss about naethin’! Och, Miss Merry, you’re no looking like yourse
lf
today. If you ask me, you’ve never quite got over that ’flu. Though maybe I can guess what’s wrong.” Merry held her breath.

“It’s yer wee book,” continued Mrs. Cameron. “Och, ye’re bound to be disappointed, but don’t let it get you down. Miss Ellen often had setbacks, but she took them in her stride. Ye’ll have to start another book as soon as you can, and learn from past mistakes. Now come on and take this hot drink. I’ll be able to feed you up now that fussy madam is away.”

Merry felt comforted. Mrs. Cameron often talked good horse sense.

CHAPTER 9

THE following morning Merry got up, heavy
-
eyed through lack of sleep. The house felt calm
and peaceful without Sylvia and Mrs. Cameron was singing softly in the kitchen, but Merry felt tired and depressed. The full realisation of the fact that the Kilpatricks thought her a thief was beginning to dawn on her, and her whole being cried out in protest. She felt unclean, and wanted to run all the way to Rossie House and deny the fact that they thought her guilty of stealing. Yet she would have to tell the truth about Sylvia, and would they believe her? Even if they did, Sylvia was still a member of her family, and it would make little difference to her future relationship with them. There could still be nothing between her and the Kilpatricks.

Wearily she picked up her returned book manuscript, and began to undo the paper. Perhaps the publishers had given a reason for its return, and it would be helpful to know where her fault lay.

The letter was a long one, giving quite a lot of praise, but pointing out quite a bit of her plot construction which was faulty, and suggesting alterations.

“If those passages could be altered in the way we suggest,” the letter concluded, “we would be happy to consider the book again.”

Merry read and re-read the last paragraph, her heart beating excitedly and her depression lifting miraculously, then carefully she read the whole letter again, referring repeatedly to her manuscript. Of course, she could see now where she had gone wrong, and how much better the book would be with the suggested alterations.

Energy and enthusiasm pulsed through her, and she ran to find Mrs. Cameron.

“Yer breakfast’s just ready now, Miss Merry,” said Mrs. Cameron, fussing over her like a mother hen.

“Oh, not very much this morning,” Merry told her hurriedly. “I’ve got heaps of work to do, and I want to get it done quickly.”

“Ye’ll do it all the better on a good full stomach,” the older woman said firmly. “After that, I’ll see ye’re not disturbed. It’s fine to see a bit of life in ye again, if I might say so.”

Merry ate up her breakfast, her mind already busy with the book.

The next three days passed in a dreamlike state of hard work and snatched meals against Mrs. Cameron’s approval. Merry was aware of her hovering in the background, an air of uneasiness about her, but she put everything but her book out of her mind, and soon it was again ready for posting and Merry lay back in her easy chair, feeling drained but at peace. Whether it was now accepted or not, she felt she had done a good worthwhile job, and her body and mind were soothed with satisfaction.

She jumped up and put on her warm anorak and gloves. She would feel even better when the book was once again in the post.

“Anything from the village?” she asked
Mrs. Cameron, peeping into the kitchen.

The woman looked up at her, pale-faced, her eyes clouded.

“Er ... no, Miss Merry
...
that is, I’ll be getting it a’ masel’ when I see what’s needed.
Er...”

“What?” asked Merry.

“Naethin’,” mumbled Mrs. Cameron unhappily.

But Merry was in the third shop before her suspicions were confirmed that some people were looking askance at her, as though wary and suspicious, while others were over-hearty as though anxious to show that they were on her side.

She walked home, feeling the nightmare begin to close round her again. Surely the whole village didn’t suspect her of being a thief? It was pretty obvious that the story of the missing ring had leaked out, and where it had come from. Jeanie Lumsden, the cook at Rossie House, was a great gossip, and knew practically everyone in the village.

Merry thought of Mrs. Cameron’s unhappy looks, and anger began to rise in her. Surely her own housekeeper hadn’t been listening to tales against her
...
and believing them! She remembered that Mrs. Cameron and Jeanie Lumsden were cousins, and the knowledge did nothing to cheer her up.

When she got home she walked straight to the kitchen, where Mrs. Cameron was peeling potatoes.

“Well?” she asked bluntly.

“Oh, Miss Merry
!”
The older woman’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been that mad at Jeanie Lumsden, and we’re not talking noo. But she swears it’s true about
...
about that ring. She says they suspect you of keeping it deliberately, though ye took it back rather than get the polis. I’ve tellt them till I’m tired ye couldna hae done sich a thing. It’s far more like that Sylvia, but they say it was you handled the ring. I feel that ashamed anybody could suspect you, and a cousin o’ mine could spread the word, though m
a
ny a one is sidin’ wi’ me and sayin’ ye couldna hae done sich a thing. There’s been a mistake somewhere.”

Merry looked her straight in the eye.

“You honestly believe that, Mrs. Cameron?”

“I do,” said the other woman simply. “There’s two ladies I’ve served an’ I’d lay my life doon against their honesty and good name. Miss Ellen and you, Miss Merry. But
...
but I feel that frustrated. Could ye no get these rumours stopped, Miss Merry? Make that Kilpatrick crowd apologise in public, or something? There was jist something aboot them I never trusted. Mind you I suppose they think it’s a’ still private, an’ forget Jeanie Lumsden is slippin’ roon the hoose when they talk aboot private things. She’s no sense of loyalty, an’ that’s why this is the first place she’s kept, an’ that only because servants are scarce nooadays. Could ye no demand an apology
?
”

Merry sat down and closed her eyes. She couldn’t let herself be suspected like this! She just couldn’t! Yet what could she do about it now? See Nigel? Would he believe her? She would have to tell
h
im all about Sylvia. Would he suspect it was only a fit of jealousy?

“I thought people would have ... would have known me better, Mrs. Cameron,” she said, a trifle huskily. “I ... I thought I had some friends down in the village.”

“And so ye have,” said Mrs. Cameron staunchly. “I’d like to crack some of their heads together. They’ve little else to think about except scandal, where they can find it.”

Sudden distaste for everything filled Merry’s heart, and she looked round the room she had come to love. Even this beloved house felt alien to her, set amidst pointing fingers and accusing stares, and she felt she could no longer bear it. Ever since she had walked back from Rossie House, after handing back the ring, she felt in her heart that she must leave this place, and start afresh elsewhere—Edinburgh, perhaps, or even London where few people would even have heard of Kilbraggan. She would go into Hillington straight after lunch, and see an estate agent.

The following day a well-dressed middle-aged man arrived in a large comfortable car and was conducted over the house, making notes on a pad.

“It won’t be too easy to sell, Miss Saunders,” he warned her. “It’s a charming house, but not everyone wants old property these days. They like new, streamlined kitchens, and rooms easy to keep clean. Still, I’ll put my board up, and advertise in all the best papers and magazines. We’ll view by appointment only, and that will make it easier for you.”

“Very well, Mr. Grant,” said Merry quietly. “I’ll leave that to you.”

She watched him go, while Mrs. Cameron walked up and down the house, pale and silent, her mouth drawn with disapproval.

“You’re sure to be all right,” Merry told her comfortingly. “I’m sure that whoever buys the house will need someone to help, so you’ll be able to stay on.”

The older woman looked at her levelly.

“If you weren’t upset, ye couldna say sich a thing tae me, Miss Merry,” she said flatly. “Dae ye think that’s a’ I care aboot
... my job? No, I hate to see ye running away, as though ye’re admitting to everybody that the rumours are true. That’s what I hate.”

“I don’t think I care any more what people think,” said Merry wearily. “I’ve tried to be happy here, to work quietly, and mix in with the community, and somehow I’ve made a mess of it I’m tired of it all, Mrs. Cameron.”

“Dear knows what Miss Ellen would have to say if she knew,” said Mrs. Cameron darkly. “She’d sort them out before I could flick my feather duster
!”

“Oh, Mrs. Cameron!” wailed Merry, and burst into tears.

The housekeeper sat down beside her, and drew her into comforting arms.

“There, there, ye’re just a bit bairn,” she said compassionately, “and even if the new folk go down on their knees to me, I wouldna stop here and leave you on your own
...
wherever you decide to go. Ye need somebody to look after you, an’ that’s a fact.” She stroked the soft brown hair. “It’s time Mr. Benjamin was home,” she said firmly. “He’s another one who can sort them. He’ll not listen to a load of nonsense, won’t Mr. Benjamin.”

Merry only cried more than ever.

CHAPTER 10

LATE on Sunday evening Benjamin returned home again, and on Monday morning he made his way to Beau Ness.

Merry saw him from the window, and had an almost overpowering impulse to rush out and throw herself into his arms. She controlled herself, however. She had been rejected by enough people over the past few days, and if Benjamin didn’t want her, or even if he pretended to want her out of pity, it would be the last straw.

Mrs. Cameron let him in, and he came striding straight through to the study and stood, white-faced, glaring at Merry. She saw that he was in a towering rage, and she stiffened inwardly, her chin firming as she met his eyes squarely.

“I want to know all about it,” he told her quietly. “All. Every word. Tell
it ...
from the day I left for London.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” said Merry, her voice croaking with nerves.

“Not much? My God! Now, just you start talking, and tell me it all. We’ll start from that damned jewellery exhibition.”

Merry wet her lips and nodded, pausing a little to assemble her thoughts. Her writer’s mind gathered it all together coherently, and quietly she began to tell Benjamin about the exhibition, the checking, the missing ring, and the fact that she found it that evening in her own home.

“How did you come to find it, and who had it?” demanded Benjamin.

“I have nothing more to say,” she told him stubbornly. “The Kilpatricks have their ring back again. They didn’t call in the police. As far as I’m concerned, the incident is over.”

She looked at him and caught her breath. His face was deathly white, and his eyes blazed with furious anger.

“You have nothing to say,” he said, in a very quiet, controlled voice. “You helped the Kilpatricks. They lost their ring ... you recovered it. Now they ... they think you’re a thief. You ... you accept that. You even put Beau Ness up for sale! And you’ve nothing to say!”

The last words seemed to vibrate round the room.

“Sylvia has gone, like a rat deserting the ship,” continued Benjamin, prowling round like a caged bear. “Have Nigel Kilpatrick or Stephanie been in touch with you?”

She shook her head, and Benjamin stopped prowling and stood straight in front of her.

“I’ve never heard anything so
...
so ...
shameful in all my life,” he told her, in the same quiet, controlled voice. “I
... f
eel like giving you the spanking of your life
...
and as for Kilpatrick...
!
” Words seemed to fail him. “Don’t move from here, or do anything, till you hear from me again,” he told her, as he made for the door. “Is that understood?”