Aunt Sophie's Diamonds (4 page)

"And never of the diamonds? Strange, in
my
conversations with your mama, they were an inseparable pair—Sophie and the diamonds."

"Do you know my mother well?” Claudia asked. Strange that he
seemed
to, yet mama had said they were not friends.

"I believe I know her fairly well,” he said, with a speculative glance at Marcia, who was observing them eagerly. She was uneasy to see Hillary in close conversation with Claudia—an artless girl who might go giving away her age or say something indiscreet. She arose and went to join them.

"Now you have met my daughter, Sir Hillary, you must congratulate me on her."

"It is Henry who wants congratulating, darling. She doesn't take after you in the least."

"No, she is a Milmont through and through."

"She has been telling me what a naughty mother you are, you know, and I think you have some explaining to do."

"What nonsense has she been telling you?” she snapped, throwing a suspicious look at her daughter.

"No, mama, Sir Hillary is fooling. I didn't say anything..."

He looked and wondered at the expression on their faces.

"Now what have I inadvertently stumbled into?” he asked aloud. “Marcia, my dear, have you taken a lover, after all these years of celibacy?"

"How dare you, sir! And in front of my daughter, too."

"But you assured me she is pure Milmont. She won't have a notion what we're talking about. Henry never had. Not a lover then. Well, in that case, I admit the whole affair is beginning to bore me. What I
meant,
by the by, is only that you forgot to tell Claudia about the diamonds. She tells me she hadn't realized there were diamonds in the case."

"I hope I have not raised Claudia to be a grasping sort of girl."

"Whoever raised her for you seems to have led her away from that path. Henry's folks, wasn't it?"

Her bosom swelled with frustration. “Because of her health, it was necessary for Claudia to stay in the country."

"It proves to have effected a miraculous cure,” he said, smiling. “Quite a remarkable bloom on those cheeks. No rouge either,” he said, peering a little more closely at Claudia, then comparing with a glance at her mother. “Do you know, Marcia darling, I think
you
ought to try a sojourn in the country."

"When I want your advice, I will be sure to ask for it, Sir Hillary."

"And I will be sure to give it, to the best of my poor ability. But what must your daughter think of us, squabbling as though we were husband and wife—and in a house of death, too. I'll tell you what we'll do. Let us have Luane and Gabriel take your little daughter to see the diamonds and other jewels—the case of reproductions, that is to say, and you and I can get down to fighting in good earnest. I mean to pull a crow with you over the shameful manner in which you have neglected Claudia's education. I mean the diamonds you forgot to tell her about, darling. Don't blanch so—it highlights the rouge dreadfully. Have you neglected her education in other areas as well, you appalling woman? Don't tell me she doesn't waltz and speak French and do those ugly little embroideries the ladies are all crazy for."

"Of course, she does!"

Claudia chuckled and her mother withered her with a stare. “Sorry, mama."

"I'll speak to
you
later, young lady."

"Stand up to her,” Hillary advised in an audible aside. “It is the only way with these old tartars."

"Well!” from Mrs. Milmont.

"Not
speaking chronologically, you understand. ‘Old’ in the sense of ‘damned’ you know—or let us say ‘cursed,’ or even ‘blasted.’ Come along!” He held a hand out to Claudia. To her mother he said before leaving, “That will give you a few moments to get your temper under control and think up a sharp answer for me."

Claudia arose till her eyes were not so far below the level of Sir Hillary's own, and he looked at her in surprise. “You're a big little Claudia, aren't you, darling?” he said, taking her arm in his and leading her across the room.

"You'll never guess the way this young lady has been maltreated,” he said to Gabriel. “While we have been plotting and scheming how to get the diamonds all these years, Miss Milmont has not even been aware of their existence. Really she has been treated abominably, and
I
for one would have written her about them had I known of her ignorance. Well, it's too late to do any good now, but you and Luane can show her the case of reproductions in the armaments room, to prepare her for the shock of the genuine article when she sees it."

"Oh, yes, cousin. You will die laughing to see how ugly they are,” Luane replied. “Come along, Gab,” she said.

Hillary stood a moment looking at the trio and continued to stare after them as they left the room together. There was a certain maturity about both the face and figure of Miss Milmont, when she stood side by side with young Luane, that argued her being a little older then her mama implied. His mind ran back over the history of her family, and it occurred to him that he had been hearing about ‘little Claudia’ ever since he was a sprig himself. He looked at Mrs. Milmont, frowning in concentration, then to her great dismay, he turned and followed Gabriel and the girls from the room.

Sophronia Tewksbury, when alive, had had made a very good copy of each piece of jewelry as she acquired it. This was not done for the usual purpose of wearing the copy to public parties to prevent the original from being lost or stolen. She rarely went out to parties and, when she did, she wore the originals which were heavily insured. It was her pleasure to have the copies mounted on blue velvet and displayed in a locked glass case in the armaments room, between two suits of rusty armor which stood guard over them. Visitors to Swallowcourt could then be allowed to admire her possessions without the bother of her getting them out of hiding. They were kept in a carefully bolted box in the wine cellar, behind a couple of empty hogsheads that had once contained Chambertin. Only herself, Miss Bliss, and the butler knew the secret hiding-place. Since Sophie had been bedridden, it was the unenviable task of Miss Bliss to descend to the cave and procure whichever piece Sophie required for the week. She had to go down only once a week.

It was to this glass case, standing between the suits of armor, that Luane now led Miss Milmont to show her the reproductions. “There they are,” she said dispassionately, holding a branched candelabra high to give a view of the ersatz treasures. In the shadowed light, against the dark velvet, they looked magnificent. The diamond necklace was the star of the show—great rock-sized chunks of sparkling stone fashioned into a necklace long enough to lie on the chest. Suspended from it at the very center was a pear-shaped stone as big as a plover's egg.

"It looks for the world like a chandelier,” Miss Milmont pronounced, and a throaty laugh escaped her. “Are there candles to go with it?"

"You have an unerring eye in your head, Miss Milmont,” Hillary said, coming up behind her.

She jumped, for she had not heard him approach.

"Yes, it is gross,” Luane agreed, hardly glancing at it. “But I still hope it's mine."

"It must surely be going to you, don't you think, Uncle Hil?” Gabriel asked. Hillary was not his uncle, but the termination had been agreed upon early in their relation ship.

"It is wisest not to count your chickens before they're hatched. According to kinship, Miss Milmont has as much right to it."

"I shall now answer a question you asked me previously, Sir Hillary,” Claudia said. “After seeing them, I have no hesitation in proclaiming a total disinterest in Aunt Sophie's diamonds. That red ring is nice though—a ruby I suppose. How oddly it is cut; it looks like a cherry."

"It is called a cabochon—polished rather than faceted,” Sir Hillary explained.

"Oh, and that huge rope must be the pearls I have heard mama mention. How very well they look."

"Mama
did
mention the pearls, did she? She was not quite so negligent as I accused her of being. Yes, the glass beads with fish-scale coating give a good likeness of real pearls in the half-darkness."

"Of them all, I prefer the emerald ring,” Gabriel said, looking into the case.

"She was wearing it today,” Claudia told him. “It is the only one of her jewels I have actually seen."

"I like the little diadem of diamonds,” Luane said. “She let me wear it once, and it was very uncomfortable."

"That would be because she screwed it to your head,” Hillary suggested. “No borrowing of the jewels was ever taken lightly."

"I wasn't even leaving the house. Don't you remember—it was on my sixteenth birthday. I thought she meant to give it to me, only she gave me a netting box instead."

Claudia gave her a commiserating smile. “You would not have liked it if it was uncomfortable."

"Pooh, I don't care for a little discomfort."

"I
do,” Sir Hillary said. “And if Miss Milmont has gazed her fill at these pieces of glass, I suggest we leave this drafty room and return to the Saloon, where we might be comfortable with a cup of lukewarm, now almost certainly cold, tea."

"I'll get you a glass of wine instead,” Luane told him.

"Thank you, no, brat. I value my health even more than my comfort, and vinegar doesn't agree with me."

They returned to the Saloon and the cold tea, and Sir Hillary went to Miss Bliss. “Have arrangements been set in progress for the funeral?"

"We notified the vicar, and Jonathon wrote notes to several neighbors. As tomorrow happens to be Sunday, the vicar can announce the death and date of the funeral for anyone who wants to come."

"Is Jonathon putting the hatchment up, and doing the knocker in crape? Sophie would have wanted the whole works."

"The butler is seeing to it."

"It's a macabre enough thing to mention at this time, but you must be inured to oddities after ten years’ internment in this mausoleum. What I'm talking about is the barbaric necessity for a sort of feast, after the funeral. I suspect, knowing the dear late Sophronia, the cupboards are bare. Tomorrow being Sunday, and the funeral on Monday, shall I bring some things from Chanely?"

"There's a plum cake I was planning to serve Sunday—we could save it."

"Mmm—but I
do
feel, you know, that you ought to feed the guests
something
tomorrow, Sunday or no. I shall risk losing my cook by setting him to bake up the funeral feast on the Sabbath. It will be a nuisance to haul everything over. You'll need some decent wine, too, and very likely some extra glasses and dishes. Do you know, Miss Blissful, I begin to think the easier way is to hold the after-service party
chez moi.
Will it look too very odd?"

Miss Bliss considered it, and though it would certainly appear odd, it would be such a blessed relief that she did not reject the offer out of hand.

"Is it the proprieties that deter you? I can see it is. Never mind, it will be taken for only one more instance of my encroaching ways by the mourning relatives. I have the excuse of Gab's being her nephew."

"It would be no odder than the sort of spread that would be put on here,” she allowed reluctantly.

He smiled at her, not the sneering smile recently seen, but quite a warm, engaging expression. “What has kept you here so long, Blissful? You know I have been trying to lure you over to Chanely this age."

"No, you haven't,” she said bluntly. “And if this is your roundabout way of offering me asylum now that she's gone, thank you, but no. I have other plans."

"I remember the chicken farm, and what a haven it will seem after this, but I confess my motives were not so philanthropic. I may have need of you, darling."

"Then you'd better stop slumming me with your ‘darlings',” she answered curtly, not without a twinkle in her eyes, “What possible need could you have of me? Your housekeeper is unexceptionable, and you have more flirts than you know what to do with."

"You underestimate me. I know what to do with everyone of them, but I am always on the lookout for another unattached Incomparable. Yes, and I fear I am about to inherit one.” He glanced to Miss Beresford.

"I've been wondering what is to be done about Luane. I suppose there's no hope of Mrs. Milmont's offering to take her. If the girl inherits something, I mean."

"She has not seen fit to take her own daughter; I think we may be guided by that. And as far as that goes, she is not the chaperone one would like for such a headstrong hoyden as Loo."

"Dear me, no, she seems a rackety creature."

"Not quite so bad as that, but she don't move in the first circles, to put it mildly. Perhaps some small establishment can be set up for Loo, and I can think of no one with whom she would be so comfortable as you. And you, my poor dear, would be far from comfortable with her."

"I don't mind her, but I could do nothing to introduce her to society, Sir Hillary, if that is what you have in mind. Or was it not London you were thinking of?"

"Yes, it was, and
I
would undertake to introduce her, as my ward, if that is what she turns out to be."

"Surely Sophie hasn't served you such a trick as that. You're barely even connected to the girl."

"Who else is there? Besides, I'll be connected if she marries Gab. I like the little beggar anyway. We can't just turn her loose in the world with her fists full of diamonds for some bleater to grab. But I'd like to bring her out in London and give her a chance at some other gents. Wouldn't you like a Season? You'd be all the crack, Blissful."

"I can think of nothing more uncomfortable,” she said primly, but an unsteadiness of the lips betrayed her amusement at the idea of a fifty-year-old matron of very plain appearance setting the
ton
on its ear.

"Put on fifty pounds and you might even nab Prinney. He likes ‘em pleasingly plump."

"You forget yourself, Sir Hillary,” she said, feeling this dalliance had gone further than was seemly.

"I never give myself a thought from cock's crow till dark,” he returned, unphased. “My mind is always occupied with caring for the less fortunate."

"Nothing can be decided till after the will is read. We'll speak of this again."