Wiles of a Stranger (13 page)

A professional investigator, he had resources that were beyond me to discover what was going on. The man at Tunbridge Wells, for instance, there was no way I could have done that. And if he worked for Sacheverel, he was not likely to run into trouble with the law. But how had he got that tropical tan? Where had he been that he was unaware of the recent great events that had shaken England?

I remembered to give my cheek a rub before entering the house. I told them the tooth had not been drawn after all, but some oil of cloves put in it to ease the pain. I claimed to be feeling much better, to avoid having to go to bed.

Lucien was waiting for me in the nursery. He came to my room with me while I unpacked my trunk and put my things away. “Did you really have the toothache?” he asked, with a piercing look in his shrewd eyes.

“Why would I say I had if I hadn’t?” I prevaricated.

“If you were going to meet Major Morrison, I want to go with you. He is my special friend.”

“He told me all about it.”

“All about it?”

“Yes, that Sacheverel has hired him to look after your interests.”

A youthful but still very superior laugh greeted my ears.

“Is that what he told you? What a complete hand he is.”

“Lucien, what do you mean?” I demanded, in horrible alarm.

“Don’t be startled, Miss Stacey. He is helping me, but what a plumper to have told you—Sacheverel sent him.”

For several minutes I questioned him, but learned nothing more. So the major was still a mystery.

Chapter Ten

The evenings were long and dull at Glanbury Park. I never knew how long an evening could be, until I went there. Our evenings in London were not gay, mad revels to be sure, but we had callers, and were invited out, or if we stayed in, we amused ourselves with cards, or reading, or sewing. Mrs. Farell was a talented dame with her needle.

Here in the country, country hours were kept. Dinner was over long before dark. There was the short visit belowstairs with Lucien, but he was in bed at nine. I could have joined the servants in the kitchen, but the governess, being born a lady, was not really welcome there. I could almost pity Mrs. Beaudel, who was as bored as I was myself, with her aging husband sitting across from her, rustling the newspaper and occasionally smiling at her from above his spectacles. You could fairly hear her teeth grind when he did it.

It must have been infinitely dull for her. She was stuck with this existence until her husband should die, whereas I would be released as soon as I proved my father innocent. One could not condone her carrying on with the butler and casual visitors, but I was coming to understand it.

With no butler to entertain me, I was left with my own indifferent company. My thoughts invariably turned on my situation, and how I could bring the business to a head quickly. It all hinged on proving there was a thief in the house, of course. It now looked as though the thief were Mr. Beaudel, who had, unfortunately, the means to conceal his crime. As this was the case, I wondered how Sacheverel, an old man, and far away, had come to suspect there was anything amiss, and sent Morrison to investigate. It was not the diamonds stuffed into Papa’s pocket that had brought him. He had arrived too soon after the event for Sacheverel to have learned of it, and sent him. So there had to be more than that going on.

The star of the Beaudel collection was the Jaipur, the rose diamond. I decided that it was some irregularity with regard to this fabulous thing that had instigated Sacheverel’s investigation. There was great secrecy regarding its whereabouts. Papa had not been allowed to see it; Morrison had not seen it. To my knowledge, no one had seen it.

One could hardly avoid wondering whether it were around to be seen. It was the Jaipur that Kirby had particularly asked my father to examine and evaluate, so he must have had some reason to suppose it was for sale. The mystery nagged too, that Kirby had never come forward, after asking us to let him know if there was any trouble.

Once I had convinced myself the Jaipur was at the foundation of all the mysterious doings, anything else seemed like time wasted. The thing to do was to discover whether the gem was still in Beaudel’s possession at all. Lucien, I knew, thought he still had the stone in safekeeping for his maturity. No point disturbing him by the question. I would tackle Beaudel himself—ask him if I could see it. He would think me forward, which bothered me not in the least. Even if he refused to show it to me, I might be able to judge from his demeanor whether he had it.

The next morning, before speaking to Beaudel, I asked Lucien what the Jaipur looked like.

“It’s this big,” he said, making a circle with his thumb and index finger. “It’s all pink and shiny.”

“When is the last time you saw it?”

“At Christmas. Uncle Charles had it out then and showed it to me and Algernon; Algernon asked to see it.”

“Had it out from where?” I asked.

“Out of where he hides it, upstairs,” he answered, “but I don’t know where, exactly, so you need not bother asking me. Miss Little thought he got it from his own room, but I think he went up to the attic. You can go to the attic from Uncle Charles’s bedroom. It is the only way you can go to the tower room. Uncle Charles’s room is on the east front, where the tower is. I wish I could have it.”

“Do you see your rose diamond very often?” I went on, taking mental note of all his answers, for possible future use.

“Usually on my birthday, and at Christmas.”

“When is your birthday, Lucien?”

“In September. I will be seven.”

September was much too long to wait. I was determined to put my request to Beaudel that very day, but was prevented by the fact of his going away. He received some letter that appeared to upset him, had the carriage harnessed up, and went flying off. His wife, bored with her loneliness, invited Lucien and myself to join her for luncheon.

“Where is Uncle Charles?” Lucien asked, in his grave, polite voice.

“Gone to London, leaving me all alone,” she pouted.

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

“He is gone on business, and will be back tomorrow.”

“What business?” Lucien persisted.

“What a Nosey Parker it is!” she chided. “Your business, Mr. Curiosity. He has gone to arrange some profitable investment for your money.

“He doesn’t have to go to London to buy Consols,” Lucien told her sagely. “Algernon says you can buy them from an agent in any town.”

“Then he must be investing your money in something else, must he not?” she countered, her patience wearing thin. She turned away from Lucien and regaled me with some story she had been reading about a pig-faced lady in London. “Some saucy fellows dressed up a trotter in a bonnet and gown, certainly, and tried to pass it off for a lady,” she decided. “Only fancy people being taken in so easily, but it says in the article folks believed it. Well, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“It surprises me,” Lucien said, wide-eyed with this tale.

“I daresay it surprised the gentleman the pig bit too. They had to send off for a sawbones to tend his wound. What fun they must have in London,” she finished, with a wistful sigh.

She was attending a flower show that afternoon. With this to make a grande toilette for, Lucien and I were allowed to leave as soon as we had finished luncheon. “Are you ready for your ride?” I asked him.

He was always ready to throw his leg over a pony. “Are you coming with me, or does your tooth hurt?” he asked.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Stay home if you don’t feel well,” he offered, with the instincts of a gentleman. I remembered it had not occurred to his aunt to enquire for my health.

Curious to learn what the major had to say, I went with him. Morrison was there at the appointed spot at the appointed hour. He had come mounted, as his curricle could not negotiate fences and rough meadows. A fine chestnut gelding was chomping the grass beneath a tree, while the major busied himself spreading a white cloth on the ground, and placing two glasses on it. Lucien ran to him to have his silken curls mauled, a form of condescension he did not really like, but he liked the major, so tolerated it.

“You didn’t bring a glass for me!” Lucien said, looking at the stemmed glasses on the cloth.

“Wine and sugarplums go very badly together,” he replied, producing a small bag of sweets for the boy.

“Are we having a party, Major?” I asked.

“There is no need to deprive ourselves of the amenities of a polite call, only because we are forced to meet outdoors like gypsies,” he answered, stepping back to admire his work. “Flowers would be nice,” he said consideringly. “I racked my brain to discover some means of transporting tables and chairs, but the lack of a carriage defeated me in the end. Which seat do you prefer, Miss Stacey? The rock is cleaner, I believe, but no doubt the fallen log is softer,” he suggested, conning this problem with polite interest, and finally suggesting the rock.

As I had already taken a step toward the log, I sat on it instead, looking about for what was to go into the glasses. “It is chilling, in yonder stream,” he said, before I voiced the question. “I have brought a rather good sherry. I hope it meets with your approval.” He strolled to retrieve the bottle, and pried out the cork with a penknife.

“There was no need to go to all this trouble,” I told him, smiling at the formal manner he had adopted.

“True, we could have drunk it from the bottle, as we soldiers did in the Peninsula, but when a lady is present, one likes to observe the customs.”

He picked up the two glasses, balancing them between the fingers of his left hand, as he poured with the right. He walked to the log and extended the glasses to me. I took both, to allow him to reinsert the cork and set down the bottle.

“To your very good health,” he said, accepting one glass and raising it in a toast. “You are looking charming today,” he continued, after taking a sip.

“Thank you. Ought I to say something about the weather now?” I enquired, to show my appreciation of his efforts.

“That usually precedes the requisite compliment on a lady’s toilette—no matter what lack of pains her appearance displays,” he replied, but with no actual disparaging glance at my toilette. “Shall we rush right along to a query for the health and wellbeing of the family?”

“By all means, for it is of prime interest to me. How is my father?”

“He is fine, but you ought more properly to enquire after my father,
n’est-ce pas
?”

“Do you have one?”

“Oh yes, and a mother too. They were married. To each other. I am not the sort of social outcast you think me.”

“Uncle Charles has gone to London,” Lucien piped in, always wanting to be included in adult conversation.

“We see you, Lucien. That is quite enough. There is no need for us to hear you as well,” the major said sternly. “In fact, we could see you equally well if you decided to take off your shoes and socks and have a wade in the stream. There are tadpoles in there.”

“It will be too cold for him,” I countered.

“Not to judge by the temperature of this sherry, it won’t.”

“Miss Little let me wade a week ago,” Lucien told me. This being the case, I allowed him to go, to be rid of him.

“Enough chitchat,” the major said, when we were alone.

“Did you find out anything of interest?”

“Just what Lucien said—Beaudel has gone to London.”

“I knew that already. Unfortunate he didn’t take his wife with him. Did you learn why he went?”

“Stella said it was to invest the money you gave him for the necklace, but we know that is not true. Did you learn anything about the man he gave the money to? Sangster.”

“The man is a cent-percenter, a professional maker of loans. One trembles to wonder at what percent of interest, when the borrower is in dire need. I approached him, indicating I could use a few hundred pounds, and he mentioned twenty percent. His chief merit, it seems, is that he acts with the greatest discretion.”

“So we know Beaudel borrowed money, and didn’t want anyone to know it.”

“More damning, we know he used Lucien’s money to repay the debt. But we still don’t know why he incurred the debt originally.”

“Did you learn anything about Mrs. Beaudel from Tunbridge Wells?”

“My man should be back this evening. These enquiries take a little time. His staying a few days is good news, Miss Stacey. If his questions had not turned up something, he would have been back by now.”

“I know she’s at the bottom of whatever is going on.”

“Is there something other than innate jealousy of another beautiful woman that makes you favor Mrs. for the culprit?” he asked, with a lazy smile.

“I’m not a bit jealous of her. She has a perfectly wretched time. I can almost understand her carrying on with Wiggins and any old scarecrow who comes along. She does it to keep from dying of boredom.”

“The old scarecrow who came along thanks you for that flattering interpretation of the matter.”

I ignored his attack of pique. “It could take forever to free my father, the way we are going about it.”

“Hardly forever. Algernon returns from university very soon. If they mean to try for the real money, they’ll be arranging it now.”

“By real money, you mean the Jaipur?” He nodded. “I think I know where it is kept.”

“Excellent! You are a busy little bee. Tell me all about it.”

I told him what Lucien had told me. “If Lucien knows it, Stella knows it as well. Why doesn’t she just grab it and run, I wonder?”

“Maybe it’s hidden so well she can’t find it.”

“Hmm, and maybe she’s waiting for the opportune moment. You think she covered up stealing a few small diamonds by involving your father. There would be a great hue and cry if she just grabbed it and ran, but if she could do it in some manner while there is another suspect around…”

“I see your point. There was no one but family at Christmas and Lucien’s birthday, I believe. But he never will show it to anyone. It’s not for sale, despite his wife’s urging.”

“Everything is for sale, if the price is right,” he countered, twirling the glass in his fingers, while he looked into the rolling amber liquid. “Yes, I know it sounds cynical,” he added, lifting his eyes to quiz me, “but it happens to be true.”