Aunt Sophie's Diamonds (12 page)

"How very charming!” Marcia said to her host in a gushing manner.

"Thank you,” Sir Hillary replied. “But you have seen Chanely before."

"Oh, yes, after the funeral, but that was afternoon. It looks much better at night. There is something so romantic about candlelight."

He looked at her elaborate get-up and at Claudia's near rags, and the familiar sneer settled on his features. “I have often observed elderly ladies prefer candlelight,” he answered and turned to make the others welcome before she had time to recover. They were taken to the Blue Saloon and seated, and Marcia immediately began hinting for a tour of the other parts of the house.

"I thought you would all like a glass of wine before dinner—after your drive,” Hillary suggested, turning a deaf ear to her hints.

"We can have a glass of wine any old time, but it is so seldom we get a chance to see Chanely,” Marcia insisted.

He put his hand on the bell to call for wine, then suddenly reconsidered, and said, “Am I correct in assuming you would like to be shown around, Marcia?"

"I'm sure we would all enjoy it."

"Miss Bliss is familiar with the house, as are Luane and the captain, but perhaps Claudia..."

"She would love to see it,” Marcia answered unhesitatingly, without a single look toward her daughter.

With the host thus forced to absent himself from the majority of his guests, the party was off to a poor start till Luane decided to join the tour, which brought Jonathon at once to her side.

"Well, Blissful, you might as well join us,” Hillary said, and she too arose and tagged along with them.

They were conducted through different rooms—library, portrait gallery, various parlors, armaments room, and music room with a compliment for everything from Mrs. Milmont. Sir Hillary then tried to return his guests to the Blue Saloon for their wine, but pointed questions about the chambers abovestairs revealed to him that he was not to get off with showing only the downstairs. With a resigned bow he led them up the grand staircase. They were shown the green guest suite, the blue guest suite, the gold, and the chambers that had been honored long ago by sleeping Charles II—but still the insatiable viewer was not satisfied.

"How about the part of the house that is being used?” Marcia asked.

"My guest suites are in frequent use,” Thoreau told her.

"What a jokesmith you are, Sir Hillary,” she laughed. “I mean
your
chambers, of course. I am sure you have taken the very best suite for yourself."

"I have taken the master bedroom, certainly. Must you see it too, Marcia?"

"We would not want to miss the best room,” she said coyly, and with his tongue between his teeth, Hillary led them to his own room. His butler was just clearing away the garments shed by Sir Hillary half an hour before and looked up in surprise to see the party being shown in.

"Surprise, Blicker,” Hillary said. “Company, and you caught with your chores undone.” The valet bowed wordlessly and left with the shirt and spoiled ties in his hands.

There was nothing extraordinary in the room after all. It was fine, with a huge four-poster bed hung with gold brocade curtains, the replicas of which hung at a pair of windows. There were the usual pieces of furniture: dresser, clothespress, a few chairs scattered about. Mrs. Milmont complimented him with every adjective at her command and then turned, satisfied at last. Luane, who had never been in this particular room, walked around and stopped in one dark corner.

"Why have you left my jewels here?” she asked. On a dresser stood the replica case.

"I didn't bother taking them to the bank,” Hillary told her. “My vault is not a safe place, as we have reason to know, and I haven't quite decided what to do with them."

"You should not leave them here."

"Blicker is never far away."

She peered into the glass case, then said suddenly, “I'd like to wear my diamonds."

"What, with a serge suit?” Mrs. Milmont took her to task. “Entirely inappropriate, my dear. You should look a quiz. You might wear the little sapphire pendant if you wish to dress up. Why, you and Miss Bliss will be twins, for I see she is wearing hers too."

"No, I want to wear my diamonds,” Loo insisted.

"Said you didn't like them,” the captain reminded her.

"Never mind, they are mine, and I shall wear them. You are wearing your pearls,” she said to her aunt.

"And I my emerald,” Claudia augmented. “As you have been robbed—I mean deprived temporarily of your tiara, I am sure Sir Hillary will let you wear your ersatz diamonds."

"Why not?” Hillary said. He opened the case with the key he had with him and handed her the diamonds.

They looked every bit as ludicrous as Mrs. Milmont had prophesied, and the sapphire pendant was replaced in their stead.

"You wear my diamonds, cousin,” Loo said, “I'd like to see them on someone."

"No, thank you. They would clash with my emerald ring."

"Try them on, my dear,” her mother urged. “Let us see how they will—would look."

Claudia put them on and wrinkled her nose in the mirror. “Gaudy!” she declared and reached around to undo the clasp.

"No, they look nice on you, don't they, Gabriel?” Loo asked. “An older woman can wear them."

Gabriel looked unconvinced, and Mrs. Milmont took up the cudgels in her little girl's defense.

The captain wore a considering look on his face. “Give you a bit of dash,” he decreed.

"Come on, let's have our wine,” Loo said and turned to leave, so Hillary locked the case, and everyone trooped from the room, Claudia weighted down with the unwanted necklace.

"Would you care to go upstairs and see the cheese room and attics?” Hillary asked Marcia in a perfectly civil tone, only slightly marred by a half-sneer.

She detected an edge of irony and declined with yet more compliments on what she had viewed already. They were finally allowed to have a glass of wine, and within minutes dinner was called. Mrs. Milmont had at last the glory of not only being at Sir Hillary's table, but seated in the place of honor on her host's right side. She had also the honor, as the meal progressed. of being called first ‘Marcia', then ‘darling’ as she became ever more officious.

Everything was of the first stare, as she knew it must be. The finest of china, silver, and crystal, a meal obviously prepared by a male chef, with interesting ragouts and other French dishes to offset the plain English fare. Her approval of every detail was given to the host. After two courses and two removes, the company from Swallowcourt was stuffed, for their stomachs had shrunk during their visit, but still there was more to come. Chantillies and cream pastries and fruits were set on the boards, and in spite of their satiety, a little corner had to be found for these unaccustomed treats. Conversation was general and lively. Marcia was seldom silent and hoped by her gaiety to make herself a frequent guest during her stay at Swallowcourt. How stunning if she could wangle an invitation for Mr. Blandings!

"Have you managed a good meal for once?” Sir Hillary asked Miss Milmont, seated on his left.

"Yes, I am
gorged."

"You see how well advised you were to allow me to join your adventure? And you may take home a basket, too, in case you are reduced to crumbs again tomorrow."

"Is that why you asked us?” she smiled.

"Only partially. I can't have my conspirators failing away from malnutrition, but I have been trying to get your mama to come to me this age, only she doesn't bother with me at all in London."

"What a whisker! She was as pleased as punch to receive the invitation. Oh, by the by, did Loo tell you we must speak to you privately before we leave?"

"No, have there been further developments in the case?"

She nodded. “We must move quickly. Will it be possible for us to talk?"

"Of course, but not here. I'll show you my—ah, collection? after dinner."

"Collection of what?"

"What are you interested in that we might use as an excuse?"

"Coins?"

"You are not
pure
Milmont after all. There is a little something of your mama crept in. Let us make it sermons. That should scare off the others."

A little later he turned to her again. “You are looking very elegant in the diamonds,” he said.

"Aren't they ghastly? And with this horrid old gown too."

"Now you are offending me, Miss Milmont. Do I not rate a better gown? Your mama, you will see, is looking as fine as fivepence."

"This is my best,” she told him, a little apologetically.

He looked at her gown, then a few moments later at her mama's. He had always disliked Marcia Milmont excessively. A toadeater, a pusher, and a dead bore. He now despised her. That a young girl should have not one decent gown while her mother was a walking clotheshorse was the outside of enough. The girl was attractive, too, beneath the austerity. Lovely eyes and a well-shaped face. But when he turned to address a remark to Mrs. Milmont, he was smiling blandly and was very polite.

Dinner over, the ladies went to the Blue Saloon and after a short interval, the gentlemen joined them. Sir Hillary carefully avoided taking up a seat beside Mrs. Milmont and went to sit with Miss Bliss, but before they could exchange two words, Marcia came mincing over and joined them.

"I can't tell you how much I have enjoyed myself this evening,” she began.

"I have noticed, darling, but really you have
tried
to tell me often enough. I take your word for it that you have had an evening of unsurpassed joy."

Miss Bliss ‘tch'd, tch'd’ disapprovingly and brought out her knitting.

"Such an elegant home, and all done in the best of taste."

"Thank you once again, ma'am."

"Your chef, I am sure, must be French."

"His name is Gallagher.” He was in fact a Monsieur Beaupré.

"Well, he
cooks
like a Frenchie. But then, do you keep a different cook in London, for I know your chef there is French. Everyone says so."

Caught out in his lie, he had now to pretend he had a different chef in each place, which extravagance raised him even higher in her eyes.

"We shall be quite spoiled for the simple little dinners Miss Bliss arranges for us,” she continued in a playful tone.

"Miss Bliss was hired as Sophie's companion, you recall, and cannot be blamed for the paucity of food at Swallowcourt. Why don't you take the captain to task for it? I see he is sitting there all alone."

"Yes, and I told that foolish Claudia she should ... But that is always the way with daughters. They never know enough to look sharply about them for a good match."

"They don't learn a thing from their mamas, do they?” he agreed mildly.

"Oh, naughty! Isn't he naughty, Miss Bliss?"

"I'd use a stronger term myself,” Miss Bliss said without looking up from her knitting.

"Tell me, Sir Hillary, for it is a matter that has been troubling me, and I am sure you will know just how I should go on—what degree of mourning do you plan to undertake as a result of Sophie's death?” Marcia asked.

"I plan to wear my armband for a month."

"But what I really mean is in London, for the Season, you know."

"I do not plan to go into mourning at all. I have a fairly full calendar planned already."

"Not at all! Why, how wonderful. I daresay you are right. Not a soul there will know of Sophie's death, and we might just keep it mum and not even go into half-mourning. It would be a shame to miss all the routs and balls."

"I don't plan to miss one, Marcia. They will be but dull affairs with
you
absent, however."

"But I shan't be absent. I shall not say a word about her death and go everywhere, just as you said."

"I merely said what
I
should do.
I
am only a connection of Sophronia, as has so often been pointed out. You are her sister."

"But you are Gabriel's guardian!"

"True, and certainly Gab shall not attend any balls for the next six months."

"That is a very good idea. The young ought to be made to toe the line, and there is no saying, too, that he won't come into the money, when the will is read next year. You wouldn't want him to be gallivanting all over, and then get her money. It would look so very disrespectful."

"Yes, there is nothing gives one so sorry an opinion of people as to see them disregard the proprieties. Had it been my brother who died, I should certainly go into full mourning."

"Yes, but..."

"Miss Bliss,” Hillary turned to her. “I leave you to console Mrs. Milmont on the necessity of missing the routs and balls. I have just recollected I wanted to show Miss Milmont the collection of sermons in the library. She is particularly interested in them."

"Sermons!” Mrs. Milmont said in wonder. “The girl is a changeling, I swear. It is all the fault of her grandparents, stuffing her head full of nonsense. Mrs. Milmont, you must know, is Quakerish...” Sir Hillary heard her spiel as he went across the room to Claudia.

"Sermon time,” he said, holding out his hand.

Claudia arose and went with him. Her mama watched them leave together and was struck by the charming couple they made. If only Claudia could be her right age, she might make a stab at Sir Hillary. This thought was banished as soon as it was born. For years past numbering, she herself had been trying to cajole him into mere friendship and knew him to be a tough nut to crack.

In the library he said directly, “Now, tell me what has happened."

"We must make an early try for the diamonds—tonight or tomorrow,” she replied eagerly.

"Impossible. What is the reason for the haste?"

"We have discovered that someone else means to steal them."

"Jonathon will make a try, but I doubt he'll succeed."

"No, not Jonathon. Someone else—pray don't ask me, for I can't tell you, but..."

"Marcia? Your mama is not so foolish. She knows about the steel box and couldn't possibly...” He stopped as he noticed the strange expression on her face.

"Good God! You haven't by any chance had a visit from Mr. Blandings!"

"Oh, you know about him!"