Wiles of a Stranger (11 page)

“They won’t learn it!” I said, then had second thoughts at the mischievous look that lit up his face.

“There aren’t many of us who could tell them,” he agreed.

“If there is any telling done, Major Morrison, it will not be all on the one side. In fact, I must tell Mr. Beaudel what you were doing tonight. It is my duty.”

“It would be the proper course for you to follow, just as it would be proper for me to tell him who you are. Point non plus, I believe, is the fencing term for the mutual position in which we find ourselves.”

I looked at him, measuring the situation. I held up my sleeve a few trumps. He had no reason to know I had seen him with Stella, or to suppose I didn’t believe him to be a major, but I would have those cards for another game. “What were you looking for?” I asked.

“Not the diamonds. I know where they are, and you must have observed, from whatever vantage point you were using, that I made no effort to open the safe.”

“Yes, but what were you after?”

“Something else. I only wanted to see something, not to take it.”

“Was it the rose diamond, the Jaipur, you wanted to see?”

“I would give an ear to see it, but don’t believe he keeps it here in the study.”

“It was wrong to use the boy for whatever you’re up to. If we are to—to make a sort of pact, Major, I must have your word you will not involve Lucien in anything further.”

“I will be happy to oblige, if you will let me use you instead, for the short duration you are here. Your father was supposed to mention your returning to London in that letter. I hope he took time to do it.”

“I will not be returning to London till my father is free.”

“He mentioned that little streak of the mule. Charming.”

“I am determined, not mulish.”

“Language is a malleable thing. I had some difficulty recognizing a squat, plain, stubborn woman with mousy hair in you. When I described Beaudel’s new governess as a charming girl with big blue eyes and curly chestnut hair, but with a tendency to speak her mind, Dutch was sure she couldn’t be you.”

“Look again. It’s me all right, and your pretty compliments have not made me forget my question. What are you looking for? I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

“Then I shall tell you. I’d like to go over his account books.”

“What, you took such a risk only to see his accounts?”

“There’s not much risk. Stella and Wiggins are hard at it, and the servants gone to bed. The housekeeper Stella imported has a cunning trick. She rations the candles. That puts the hired help to sleep early. Any idea where the old boy hides his books?”

“No.”

“Keep your big blue eyes open. If you plan to stay, that is...”

“That’s settled. How will Beaudel’s books help my father? He won’t have written down that he stole diamonds, or his wife did.”

“It will help eventually.”

There was a sudden sound of movement in the hallway. As the steps came closer to us, down the hallway, Major Morrison blew out the lamp, and we stood together in the darkness. I expect his heart was beating in his throat, as mine was. I was certain Mr. Beaudel was going to open his study door and catch us out. The steps passed, a light tread, and went upstairs. “Mrs. Beaudel,” I whispered, weak with relief.

“I knew it couldn’t be Mr. I got him well soused before leaving the tavern. Did you know he drinks?”

“No!”

“Oh, yes. When an elderly gent is married to a dasher like Stella, he either takes to the bottle or beats her, depending on his nature. He often does other foolish things as well.”

We were in complete darkness during this part of the conversation. I could not gauge by his tone what foolish things he referred to, but inferred he meant tampering with the collection. My own choice was Stella, but I was not sharing my views with the major yet.

“I must go,” I said.

“Mind closing the window after me before you leave?” he asked, very blandly, as though he were suggesting a game of cards, or some perfectly mundane thing.

“Is that how you got in?”

“No, Lucien let me in,” he answered, going to the window. His silhouette was perfectly visible, there against the pane of glass, but his moustache and beard hid his lips. Some crinkling at the corners of his eyes made me think he was enjoying himself.

“Shall I tell Dutch you are staying on here for the present?” he asked, as he heaved up the window, making a perfectly wretched squawking sound.

“Yes, if you see him.”

“I’ll be sure to see him. I am an inspector of jails, Miss Stacey. A perquisite I picked up as a reward for my illustrious military career. I’ll tell you all about it soon. Good evening.”

He sat on the window ledge, put his legs over the wall, and disappeared from view, but for eight fingertips that clung to the sill. They let go, and a dull thump told me he had reached the ground. I went to lower the window, carefully.

He swept a graceful and exaggeratedly low bow, there in the dim moonlight, one hand on his chest, the other holding his hat, flung out wide. He looked like some gallant cavalier from a picture story book, with his white teeth, flashing a smile.

Morrison liked playacting, and he liked women too. It was strange he would ruin his looks with that antiquated beard.

Of course it made a good disguise.

Chapter Nine

I learned the next morning that whatever else Major Morrison was, he was rich. He had completed the purchase of the Italian necklace the day before. Beaudel came to the schoolroom to tell Lucien so, and to show him the cheque for five thousand guineas.

“Good. Now I have got my own money,” Lucien said.

“You are well off,” Beaudel agreed, smiling. His eyes were red, his hand not as steady as a hand should be, after his night’s intemperance.

“Has Major Morrison left town?” Lucien asked, voicing a thought that had already occurred to me.

“He stays on for a few days in Chelmsford. He is some sort of a government inspector, looking over the jail in these smaller centers. He will soon be on his way to Brighton, to see the Prince Regent.”

After a few minutes of talk, Beaudel left. As the weather was so fine, and my student still young, we had some trouble settling down to work. Mrs. Beaudel stopped in to congratulate Lucien on the sale, and to pump him for news. As soon as she learned the Major was in town still, she decided she would run into Chelmsford to do some shopping.

“You two will not want to spend the entire day inside either, Miss Stacey. The last girl used to take Lucien out in the afternoons for some exercise. He likes to go for a walk in the meadow.”

“I like to ride my pony better,” he pointed out.

“He only walks. You can easily keep pace on foot,” Mrs. Beaudel told me.

“Miss Little taught me to play battledore and shuttlecock too. I always beated her,” Lucien contributed.

“You shan’t beat me, sir,” I warned him boastfully, though I had never attempted the game in my life.

We both looked forward to the morning’s end, for the lovely fresh green trees stirred softly outside the window, and the sun shone invitingly. It was a day to read poetry under a spreading beech tree, to don a wide-brimmed hat and go to a garden party, to take a boat out on a lake, or to walk through the fields with one’s beau, if one had a beau.

“We could read just as good outside,” Lucien pointed out, when he caught me mooning at the window.

“Just as well,” I corrected automatically.

“All right, let’s,” he said, taking the correction for agreement.

Seeing no possible harm in it, I agreed, but wished first to tell either Mr. or Mrs. Beaudel what we intended. When we reached the downstairs hall, Wiggins was showing a caller into Beaudel’s study. There were several callers at the Park, so this was by no means unusual. I told Wiggins what we were doing, and he honored me with an oily, impudent smile.

“A pity you haven’t got a little older escort, Miss Stacey,” he said. “A pretty young lady like yourself must be bored, here in the country.”

“I manage to keep myself occupied,” I said haughtily.

He shook his head. “You governesses are all alike. So bound and determined to be ladies you don’t have any fun at all. The rest of us servants, the younger ones, are going to a barn dance tonight. You’re welcome to come along, if you’ve a mind to. I just thought you might be dull, that’s all.”

I decided he was only trying to be friendly, and like Stella, knew no way of setting about it with a woman, except by flirtation. I declined, but thanked him for the offer.

Lucien and I settled under a tree that gave us a view of the house. I was curious to see what callers came, thinking the major might be ingenious enough to find an excuse to come. The only traffic was Beaudel’s visitor leaving, very soon after he had arrived, and toward noon, Mrs. Beaudel returned from town, wearing a peeved expression. No luck chasing the major, I deduced.

It was Mrs. Beaudel’s habit to take a ride on a showy bay mare after lunch. She pounded off through the park, but I had no way of knowing where she went. The care of her toilette suggested she might be meeting an admirer. On that day, Beaudel came to the nursery and told Lucien he was off to the bank to deposit his check. He tried to look merry, but failed miserably.

With both the master and mistress out of the house, it seemed a good time to look for Beaudel’s account books. What they contained that interested the major, I had no idea, but if he was willing to enter the house by stealth, they must be of great interest.

When Tess, come to remove the trays, mentioned that the servants were busy setting up the dolly for the weekly wash, I felt I would not have a better opportunity. Even Wiggins was at work, carrying water out. To be rid of Lucien, I sent him to the stable for his pony, then I went quietly into Beaudel’s office.

His desk top was not littered, as many are. The silver inkpot and a few pens sat in state, with nothing else but a calendar to decorate the surface. It was a double-pedestal mahogany desk, with two rows of drawers. I opened each drawer in turn—none was locked—and found nothing of interest. The material there dated from the days of Sir Giles and his wife. There was a small drawer between the two pedestals. As it was too small to contain ledgers, I had ignored it.

It flew open easily, revealing an untidy welter of business papers of recent date. There were several bills, mostly for items of lady’s apparel. Hats, silks, gloves, shoes—the woman was a regular mannequin. A quick estimate sent the sum above the five-hundred mark. Some were marked paid, some not. Rifling toward the back of the drawer, I felt a leather wallet. It was thin, holding only a few sheets of paper. Right on the top was one of such significance I nearly expired. It was an IOU from a Mr. Sangster for five thousand pounds. It was marked paid in full, with today’s date. He had used the money from the sale of the necklace to pay his own debts! No wonder he was in such a hurry to get to the bank. He would have to move quickly to get Morrison’s check deposited before Sangster made his withdrawal.

The other few pieces of paper were all for redeemed IOUs as well, for lesser amounts. They came to a thousand pounds in all, all dating from the first of the year, a few months after his marriage. I quickly stuffed the papers back in the wallet, returned it to the rear of the drawer, and closed it. I did not continue looking for account books. I felt this was what Morrison had been looking for.

The hall was still empty when I peered through a crack of the door. My next step was to consider how to get this information to Morrison. He was a questionable ally, but my father trusted him, and really there was no one else to turn to. There was no way of knowing when, or even whether, he would return to the Park. I had to go to him, and soon. Getting away from Lucien was the problem. He was even then getting his pony saddled up for a ride, but a groom could accompany him.

What I needed was a good excuse to get into town alone, and a means of conveyance. There was no coach passing by, and it was a long walk—five miles. I weighed the advantages of a toothache against a pain in the stomach, wondering if I would get away alone in either case. Might they not send a servant with me if I claimed to be ill, or worse, have a doctor come to the Park? Dentist then—one had to go to him. As soon as either of the Beaudels returned, I would develop a toothache and arrange a drive into town. Meanwhile, I arranged for a young groom to take Lucien to the meadow.

It fell out that Mrs. Beaudel was the first back. She came striding in from the stable, whipping the side of her skirt with her crop.

“How are you coming along, Miss Stacey?” she asked, with no real interest. “I see your trunks have not arrived yet,” she added, with a passing glance at my gown, the same one I had worn since the day I came to them.

“Actually I am not feeling very well,” I said at once, to pave the way for my request.

“What seems to be the trouble? You don’t look pale.”

“It is a toothache that bothers me,” I replied, rubbing my jaw and casting a woebegone look onto my face.

“What a nuisance for you. There is nothing so depressing. There is a fellow in town who draws teeth very well. Wiggins had to have one drawn a month ago. Why don’t you go to see him?”

“I shall. Would it be possible for me to go this afternoon?”

“Mr. Beaudel has the carriage out. There’s a gig…”

“That would do perfectly.”

“Very well. Go ahead then.” She gave instructions, examining me while she did so. “Funny your jaw is not swollen at all,” she said.

“I would like to get it tended to before it abscesses.”

“You are brave. I always wait till the last possible moment. I dread the dentist so. Will you go right away?”

“Yes, as soon as possible.”

“Very well, but you’ll have to go alone. The servants are washing today. I know they’ll destroy my new sprigged muslin,” she said wearily, then strode away, her hips swinging saucily. It was a source of continuing amazement to me that Beaudel had ever married this hussy.

I was soon jogging down the road, as quickly as a sway-backed old jade could carry me. It was a farm animal that was hitched to the gig. How I was to get in touch with Morrison was a problem. If he was out inspecting the jail, I would have to leave a note off at the inn. At least I knew he was at the Shipwalk. Beaudel had mentioned it that morning.