Aunt Sophie's Diamonds (11 page)

Mrs. Milmont recovered from her semiswoon and was immediately screaming. “My pearls! My emerald! Claudia, do you have my emerald? Run up at once—no, I must go myself and see if my pearls are safe. Where is my emerald?"

"I am wearing my emerald, mama,” Claudia replied, holding out her hand, on which the large emerald shone magnificently. “I can't get it off, you recall I told you."

"Well, that is a blessing in disguise. They can't steal the emerald unless they cut off your finger. I must see to my pearls.” She was off, huffing and puffing up the staircase.

"You'd never miss just
one
finger, would you, Claudia?” Hillary asked with a smile.

"So someone tried to steal the tiara,” Jonathon said, and was treated to a description of how this had been discovered by Hillary, who was careful to give the impression he never for one moment connected the captain with the theft, whatever Luane might say.

"Very wise to put it in the bank,” Jonathon advised. “I think Miss Milmont and her mama should do the same with their jewels. All the real ones should be put away for safekeeping. Of course you won't bother having the glass case of reproductions put into the bank. Ought to put them away safely though."

"I shall."

"Sophie used to keep her real jewels in the basement, Fletcher said. Not a bad place for the replicas. No one would be looking in a basement for them."

"The damp might turn them rusty,” Hillary answered.

"Well, the settings are gold. That don't rust."

"Not the necklace, just the rings. An attic would be better."

"Yes, in the bottom of a trunk they'd be safe. Why don't you do that?"

"That is really not what I am come here to discuss,” Sir Hillary said in the tone of announcement, which won him the attention of the group. “I would like you all to come to Chanely for dinner this evening. Your hospitality is being strained, Captain, while I do nothing to entertain the relatives, of which I am of course only a connection, as you all delight in pointing out to me. Still, I would be honoured if you would come to me en masse this evening. Say about six. We shall dine at seven."

The invitation was accepted eagerly and, when Mrs. Milmont descended wearing her pearls, she was more delighted than any of them to return to Chanely.

"We should be back in plenty of time if we leave soon,” Jonathon agreed.

"Back from where?” Marcia demanded.

"Offered to take the girls to Maldon for a drive,” he explained.

"An excellent idea!” She immediately included herself. “I did not come prepared for long mourning and have only this one black gown. I shall see if I can't pick up a few things—black ribbons and a dark shawl. Claudia, too, might need black gloves."

"I have no proper mourning clothes either, mama,” her daughter said hopefully.

"My dear, so far as
I
can see, your grandma dresses you in half-mourning all the time. You haven't a bright stitch to your name, and that gown that you are wearing is close enough to gray to make no difference."

"It
used
to be blue,” Claudia explained.

"Well it is gray now. What time do we leave, Captain?"

"As soon as you're all dressed."

"I'm
not going,” Luane announced. “Gabriel, what are you and Sir Hillary doing?"

"Nothing,” Gabriel answered, looking to his guardian.

"Why don't you ride along and escort the party?” Hillary suggested. “The carriage will hold the captain and the three ladies, and you can go mounted."

This plan pleased everyone except Jonathon but, as the King's highway was free to all citizens, he could not well prevent Gabriel from going along.

"Why don't you come, Uncle?” Gab asked.

"I have some business in the village."

"Aren't
we
going to the village?” Claudia asked.

"No, we are going to Maldon,” Loo told her. “Sir Hillary is going to Billericay—it is only two miles away, and is just a little place. Maldon is bigger."

The gentlemen left, and the ladies went to prepare themselves for the trip.

Luane was happy to be having an outing with Gabriel, Mrs. Milmont in alt to be going to dinner at Chanely, and Claudia very excited indeed to be doing anything festive. Marcia came into her daughter's room, demanding to know whether Claudia had gloves to protect her emerald, and to ask whether she ought to wear the pearls—much too dressy, of course—or risk leaving them behind.

"Wear them under your gown, mama."

"Why, so I shall, an excellent idea. Yes, and I have had another excellent idea, too, my dear, and tell me what you think of it. You recall Mr. Blandings, that nice gentleman we met at Bath two years ago?"

"The big man with dark hair? I remember him."

"I daresay you didn't know, for I haven't mentioned it to you, but the fact of the matter is, he has become very particular in his attentions to me over the past two years. Yes, indeed, he has several times hinted he wants to marry me, only he is not quite ... not to say he isn't a gentleman, for he certainly is, and loaded with money too."

"Why don't you have him?” Claudia asked.

"The fact of the matter is, he got his money in trade—owned an ironmongery, but in Somerset, so far away no one need know. But marrying him was not the idea I had in mind, though I might very well ... What I meant was, I shall ask him here."

"Here?” Claudia asked, stunned at the ineligibility of the scheme. “What on earth for?"

"To steal the diamonds for us. What could be better? He will know precisely how to open up the steel chest. It will be like opening a hat box for him, for he is so clever, especially with metal. Someone will take them before the year is up. You may depend on that. Already young Gabriel has been after them, and the captain would have, too, if he hadn't been busy trying to steal the tiara. That was very bad of him, was it not? And hardly worth his while, I should have thought. But if they are to be stolen by just anyone, we might as well have them as not. They were given to Sophie by her great aunt, Lady Mary Withers, and she was
my
great aunt too, and it seems to me if anyone is to get them, it ought to be
me."

"If Mr. Blandings is so rich, mama, you shan't need them, and really Luane had nothing."

"Pooh, she has the tiara, hasn't she? It is extremely valuable, very likely, and besides, the necklace will be yours eventually, so I should think you would be willing to help us."

"Help you!"

"Help Jerry—Mr. Blandings and myself, to steal it."

"Oh, mama, I could not!"

"What a gapeseed you are. I should have known more than to expect you to lend yourself to anything the slightest bit irregular, with the way your grandma Milmont has raised you, like a blasted saint, but at least you must be quiet about my plan."

"How do you plan to account for asking him here?"

"I have it all thought out. He lives in Essex, you see, that is just what is so convenient about it. He's bought a country seat near Colchester and is setting himself up as a country gentleman, though he hardly ever goes there. And if he should be driving from London to Marcyhurst—that is what he's called his place, after me of course, Marcia ... Well, as I was saying, if he should be passing by, what more natural than that he should stop off to say ‘how do you do’ to me? Then we have only to arrange a little invitation, and I'll say I'm lending you my carriage to return to Devon, so he will have to wait and take me back to London."

"But he was coming
from
London to Colchester."

"Well, the other way around then; what's the odds? He will have an excuse to stay over, and there you have as neat a scheme as you could care for."

Claudia was overcome at the complexity of it all and wished to eliminate the whole. “Sir Hillary has hired a guard for the grave. I can't think you will succeed with your plan."

"A guard? My dear, have you forgotten Mr. Blandings is over six feet tall? And a bruiser, too. He will knock over any guard with one hand tied behind his back, and could lift the steel casket out of its hole all by himself."

"Jonathon will not invite him to stay. Indeed it is already a great deal for
us
to be staying so long."

"No, he and the captain are good friends. I see a deal of Jonathon in town, you must know. We were all together at the play only last month, and the two of them frequently dine at my place. Besides, Jonathon will do as I tell him, now that I know he tried to steal Luane's tiara. And another thing, Claudia, Jerry has taken the absurd notion that you are not my daughter at all, but only a stepdaughter. I can't imagine where he got such an idea. But in case he should mention anything about it, you might just tell him you
call
yourself my daughter since we are so very close, but really you are your papa's daughter by his first marriage, and that is why you are staying with your Devon grandparents."

"And also why I am twenty-four?” Claudia asked with an innocent gaze not quite authentic.

"Your age need not come into it."

"Yes, mama. When do you expect Mr. Blandings to arrive?"

"I have just written the letter and will post it in Maldon today. He should have it tomorrow and, if I know Jerry, he will dash down here immediately."

"How nice,” Claudia said in a dying voice, and turned to the mirror to adjust a very plain navy bonnet over her brown curls.

She then went to Luane's room and disclosed the whole story to her, urging her to get her diamonds as soon as possible, for Mr. Blandings was a giant who could pull the steel box out of the earth with his bare hands.

"We
must
do it tonight—or tomorrow at the latest."

"We'll talk it over with Gab and Sir Hillary tonight."

"Yes, and I should prefer you not tell them about mama's plan."

"Why?"

"Because she's my mother."

"They'll think it's Jonathon we're afraid of."

"Yes, and
he
will be after them, too, since your tiara is safely out of his reach."

The trip to Maldon was a pleasant variation in the dull lives of the young ladies on the expedition. Mrs. Milmont, too, derived some pleasure in driving a sharp bargain on a piece of very nice black lace that would lend her mourning weeds an elegant touch, and found a fine white satin rose that trifled with the rules of mourning without quite rupturing them. No purchases of any significance were made by the two younger girls, both with their pockets to let. Claudia's handsome allowance was only a fiction, and of Luane's there was not even a fiction; she had a guinea a month while her aunt lived, and nothing upon her death. When Sir Hillary spoke of her having some little money from her mama to pay for her chaperone, he planned to pay for it himself. Marcia very nearly bought her daughter a pair of black gloves, till she remembered she had a similar pair at home in London that she could send her when she got back to town. She would have them then for Devon, and wouldn't be going anywhere to speak of while at Swallowcourt. She pointed out quite a few handsome articles she would have liked to buy Claudia but for this sad, sad mourning that was upon them. No point in buying her the bonnet with the primroses, for she couldn't wear it, and very likely it would be out of style by next year.

It had been the captain's hope to let the ladies fend for themselves during the shopping spree and meet them for lunch, but as Gabriel made no move to leave, he stuck with them as well, jostling elbows with Gab in an effort to walk beside Luane. Mrs. Milmont put him to good use, however, by ladening him with her purchases and later sending him off to post her letter. Claudia, used to no more than a weekly visit to a very dull local village, thought she had a marvelous time and was inordinately pleased when her mama bought her a yard of blue ribbon, that she might not go back to Devon completely empty-handed. The captain had not thought to include Mrs. Milmont and Gabriel in the luncheon treat when he had initially made his offer, but as they were there and he had enough money, he paid up without complaining and even urged Luane, though no one else, to have some fruit after she had already consumed a full meal and two cream buns, and he was positive she couldn't hold another bite. She fooled him and accepted a nectarine that cost a shilling. He consoled himself that it oftimes took a sprat to catch a mackerel, and the number of bits of rubbish Tuggins had rounded up to take to be pawned would see him through till quarter day.

As if one singular outing were not enough to enliven the dullest week, which this one was not by a long shot, Claudia had still the dinner at Chanely to look forward to when they got back to Swallowcourt. Her mama, looking very fine with the black lace over her shoulders, the white satin rose tucked into the neck of her gown, and the pearls worn over the whole, came into her room to check her ensemble before leaving.

Plain. The girl looked decidedly plain. She did her no credit in the eyes of Sir Hillary Thoreau, on whom she was desirous of making a good impression, for he could catapult one to the heights of society if only he could be brought round the thumb. She had her own woman in to see what could be done with the hair, of a natural curl but no particular style. She pulled it back, and it looked better, but there was no passing Claudia off for anything but a young lady in her twenties with such a do, and so it was again pulled down round her cheeks. The loan of her own violet shawl also proved unsuitable as it clashed with the pale blue gown, which was to be gray in the evening light. So Claudia went to dinner looking like an upper-class servant to her mama's majestic matron. It was some slight consolation that Luane looked very little better. A navy serge suit was what she considered suitable for evening wear. She explained that her “good” dress was pink and she couldn't wear it because of Sophie's death.

The captain, who had come to Swallowcourt in his dashing curricle and pair, had had Sophie's ancient traveling coach scrubbed up for the trip to Maldon, and this was again the means of conveyance to Chanely, since there were five of them to go. Miss Bliss was invited as well. Whatever the deficiencies of toilette and transportation, there was nothing lacking in the house and feast prepared for them. Candles burned in all corners, dispelling the gloom of a dismal March evening, and the fires in the grates took that nip from the air that sank into the bones at Swallowcourt. Mahogany furniture glowed richly, and the sheen of silver candelabra flickered welcomingly, to be taken up in the mirrors and multiplied.