Aunt Sophie's Diamonds (16 page)

"Mind your manners, cawker,” he said, without even glancing at Gabriel. “What else have you and Miss Milmont decided?” he urged Loo on, in an easy, agreeable manner.

"You must know it is all a farradiddle,” Miss Milmont explained, still pink around the ears, the last of her blush to dissipate.

"Another inhabitant of Fair-Speech?” he asked. “Lady Turn-about, in fact."

"You know it is impossible! I would never be allowed to be Loo's guardian. I am much too young."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty ... Never mind. I am too young for that, and have no experience along such lines."

"Ah, well,
twenty
is too young. I hoped when Loo put your age as ‘old’ you were at least a quarter of a century."

"Surely twenty-five is still too young?” Claudia asked, with a newly awakening interest. By the time the year of mourning was up, she would be twenty-five, and how she would love to be Loo's chaperone!

"It is rather young for a single lady,” Hillary agreed. “But in any case you are only twenty, and I cannot believe Loo would wish to delay her debut five years. Or is it a widower with his family already grown
you
have in your eye too, brat?"

"Oh, no,
I
am young enough to have my own brood. But aren't you older than twenty, Cousin?"

"A little older,” the embarrassed girl confessed.

"Don't be impertinent,” Hillary cautioned Luane.

"Well,
you
asked her how old she is."

"And did not question her reply. I doubt very much Mrs. Milmont would give her consent in any case. There is just a certain something about a daughter acting the chaperone that takes the bloom off her mama. And we have already spoken to Miss Bliss about the position. I have some hopes, however, that Miss Milmont may be allowed to play propriety for one day. I want to take you to London with me, Loo, and am hopeful Mrs. Milmont will allow her daughter to come along. Gabriel comes too. We would have to leave very early in the morning to get there and back in one day and still have time for a little sightseeing. The trip takes three hours, more or less. If we can leave at eight, we will be there by eleven, and if we leave London at four, we can be back here by seven—just getting dark. Will you agree, Miss Milmont, if your mother gives her consent?"

"I would love it of all things,” Claudia answered, glowing radiantly. “But I doubt mama..."

"Leave mama to me,” Sir Hillary told her, allowing a small smile to lighten his face.

"Why am I to go with you?” Loo asked.

"Don't ask embarrassing questions,” Hillary chided her. “How else can I make an excuse to take your cousin along?"

"You are a complete hand, Sir Hillary,” Loo laughed. “As though you want to take Cousin Claudia."

"I trust your good nature will overlook that solecism,” Sir Hillary said to Claudia. “The girl is totally lacking in graces."

"She has an awkward habit of blurting out the truth,” Miss Milmont agreed, laughing also, but too happy at the anticipation of the trip to take offense at anything.

"She is no mind reader, however,” he objected mildly.

"What sight-seeing shall we do?” Luane asked eagerly. “Will you take us to Astley Circus? Will it be open?"

"I doubt your chaperone will be interested to see the horses perform,” Sir Hillary replied in a disparaging tone.

"I should adore to see them!” the chaperone corrected his misapprehension immediately. “I
beg
mama to take me every year, but she says it is underbred. She
did
let her housekeeper take me to Madame Tussaud's once—oh, years ago, just shortly after papa died. But we ought not to be so merry when we are in mourning."

"Ah, well, if our lack of breeding is to lead us to Astley's, it can't be expected we shall observe any laws of mourning. Your mama intends keeping it mum among her cronies, and no one will know you in any case. Gab and I shall slip off our armbands, and we'll never be taken for a party of mourners."

"It seems wicked to be having such a good time when we ought to be sad,” Miss Milmont said, but in no very firm manner, and she allowed herself to be overridden by the others.

"Let's ask Aunt Marcia now, cousin, so that the matter can be settled,” Loo said, hopping up from the table.

"It is not yet ten-thirty, and mama never rises before noon."

"Wake her up,” Loo directed immediately.

"She is mad as a hornet to be wakened early. That will only set her jaw against the plan. It is better to wait till she's up."

"Let
me
put it to her,” Hillary said.

"You won't want to wait so long,” Claudia pointed out. “I'm sure
you
could cut a wheedle with her, but it might be two hours before she comes down."

"I am flattered at your confidence in my wheedling abilities, but there is nothing to do outside on such a day as this. We'll see if we can find a few chips to set a fire in the Crimson Saloon and be comfortable there. I wish to speak to Miss Bliss, too.
She
will not lie abed till noon. In fact, she is surely up and about somewhere already. Do you think you might ask her to see me, brat?” Hillary asked Loo.

Luane went to get Miss Bliss and, when they came down, the others had removed to the Crimson Saloon. No chips were in evidence, however, and as Thoreau's idea of pulling a couple of legs off one of the rickety chairs was vetoed by an outraged Miss Milmont, they all sat shivering in the gloom and chill.

Miss Bliss carried a long, rectangular wooden box in her hands and, when she had said good-day to the gentlemen, she handed it to Sir Hillary. “This is your chess set."

"It isn't, you know. She left it to you,” he reminded her.

"To dispose of as I see fit. I see fit to give it to you. It was her intention. Besides, I don't play chess."

"The temptation is too strong to resist,” he said, accepting the box. “I own I have had my eye on it for years. Thank you, Blissful.” He smiled and kissed her cheek, then opened the box, and set the carved pieces on the board, admiring each as he did so, and trying to encourage the others to find them as beautiful as he himself did.

"They are much finer than grandpapa's,” Claudia told him. “He has a set with the black pieces carved in wood and the white in mule bone. He is a very good player. At least, I think he is; he always beats me."

"Do you play chess, Miss Milmont?” he asked with interest. “But how felicitous! Our long vigil till your mama comes down is taken care of. Will you be black or white?"

"I know the moves,” she replied, which fell upon his ears dolefully. He had suffered through many fifteen minute games with players who ‘knew the moves’ and nothing else about the game. Still, there was nothing else to do, and they sat down at a buhl table and chose their colors.

"You be white. That means you have to go first,” she told him.

"You know that, too!” he praised her. “And here you let on to be an amateur."

"The horses are beautifully carved,” she commented, viewing the knights.

"Yes, the
horses
are generally referred to as knights,” he began his instruction. “And these big pieces with the crosses on top are our kings.” His shapely hand with its long, slender fingers pointed out the pieces. “You know, I collect, that the object of the game is not to whisk as many of my pieces as possible off the board, but to place my king in check."

"Yes, I know that,” she assured him. “These little crowns are very nicely done, aren't they? They are my favorite pieces, for they can hop all over the place."

"And the little crowns are called queens,” he continued.

"That's right. The oval with a slash is called a bishop, I remember. They go sidewise. Grandpa doesn't talk much when he plays, but he is very good."

Hillary advanced his king's pawn to the fourth square. Claudia followed with the same move. He was unsure whether she was following him from ignorance, or did it with intention. He advanced his black knight, and when Claudia countered by advancing her queen one space forward to protect her pawn, he felt the stirring of hope that she knew what she was doing. When she had, within the space of ten minutes relieved him of one of his ‘horses,’ as she persisted in calling the knights, and a pawn, which she called by its correct name, he was alerted to danger and settled into the game with enthusiasm.

"I believe I can switch my little tower and move the king two spaces over here,” she said, castling with a doubtful glance at her opponent.

"Yes, but I don't see why you are doing it."

"I see that bishop you have over there in the corner, waiting to slide out and take me,” she replied. “Those bishops are the plaguiest things. Grandpapa is always finishing me off with them."

Sir Hillary had failed to observe this fact himself, though he didn't mention it. “You play much faster than Aunt Sophie,” Luane remarked. She and Gabriel were watching over their shoulders.

"And much better,” Hillary murmured.

"Grandpa hates waiting forever for me to make a move. Check, madame,” she said.

"What?” Hillary shouted.

"I told you you have to watch out for these sliding bishops,” she warned. Then he saw her bishop attacking his queen. “See, he's way off there, a mile away, but with a clean field to swoop down on your little crown."

"You are not obliged to point out when you have my queen in check,” he said.

"Am I not? Well, I wish I had known that. Grandpa always tells
me."

"It is a courtesy merely."

"I wouldn't have bothered to be courteous. Still, it's an even duller game when the crown is off the board,” she remarked, stifling a yawn.

"I trust you don't mean to doze off on me entirely,” Hillary said with a lazy smile.

Despite Miss Milmont's yawns and lackadaisical manner of moving her pieces while chatting over her shoulder to her cousin, it was the most enjoyable game Sir Hillary had played in years. On the stroke of twelve Miss Milmont pointed out to him that he was floored, for he couldn't move his king
here
because of her pawn, or
here
because of that sneaky old bishop in the corner, or
here
because he hadn't thought to move his own pawn, or
here
because of the rook, which she called a tower.

"Check and checkmate in fact,” he declared, incredulous at being beaten by a mere girl, and one besides who wasn't half paying attention.

"Grandpapa always says, ‘I've got you now, Missie,’ when I can't move my king. I daresay we don't play it properly."

"You do your grandfather an injustice. If he has taught you to play this well, you don't need the fancy jargon to go with it. We will have a rematch very soon, Lady Turn-about! You and your ‘knowing the moves.’ Fair-speech indeed! You conned me properly."

"You should have tipped the board like Aunt Sophie,” Loo laughed.

"I didn't notice she had me checkmated. It was the bishop hiding in the corner."

"I didn't get many of your pieces off,” Claudia consoled him. “See, I only have three pawns and one horse and one little tower, and, of course, your crown. It was the crown that did you in."

"And I cautioned
you
against going after pieces. You've gammoned me, Miss Milmont. Ah, here is your mama."

Mrs. Milmont came striding in, all smiles to see Sir Hillary come to call on her so soon. Her vivacity at his dinner party had paid off handsomely. “Sir Hillary, so nice of you to come,” she said, advancing and holding out her hand. “Has my little girl been giving you a game of chess? Dull stuff, Claudia. I'm sure Sir Hillary is bored to flinders."

"Au contraire,
darling. Beat to flinders. This is a very clever little girl you have here."

"Naughty boy, you are funning. What a charming time we had last night. We must return the favor and have you to dine here one evening. I shall speak to Jonathon about it. He is locked in his study, poor fellow, trying to make heads or tails of Aunt Sophie's jumbled accounts."

"An unenviable task, but it is you I wish to see, not the captain."

"Let us be seated,” she said, leading him with great condescension to a sofa a little removed from the others, who regarded the tête-à-tête eagerly, trying to read by signs the outcome of Sir Hillary's proposal.

"I have to go to London tomorrow,” he began. “Some business to do with Loo. She is coming with me."

"How unpleasant for you,” she commiserated. “Just the worst time of the year, with the roads full of potholes, and very likely it will pour rain, as it is today."

"I hope not, but in any case, what I want to ask you, darling, is whether you will be so kind as to loan me your little daughter to accompany us. Company for Loo on the long trip."

"Who will chaperone them?"

"I will undertake to look after them both. We do not mean to remain overnight. Gabriel will look after the girls while I transact a little business. It will be an outing for them. I felt you would be depressed to be showing little Claudia such a flat time on her annual vacation. I am sure it has bothered you no end,” he added with a considerate smile.

"To be sure it has, for we usually have such a gay time, seeing all the sights and shopping and so on. But it seems a little irregular—for the girls to go with no female escort."

The name Miss Bliss, though unspoken, hovered in the air between them.

"I am Loo's guardian, and will be happy to stand
in loco parentis
to little Claudia for one day. Say she may come. I will take good care of her, I promise you. And if the weather turns bad, the girls can stay at my place—it is staffed year-round, and Gab and I will put up at an hotel. Though we shan't go at all if the weather looks unpromising."

"I can see no harm in it. If
you
undertake to look after them.” Her real regret was that she could not insinuate herself into the carriage, but with Mr. Blandings’ arrival pending, she didn't dare leave. Jonathon could not be counted on to issue the invitation without her here to nudge him into it.

Pleased with his easy success, Sir Hillary remained chatting for a quarter of an hour to reward Marcia, regaling her with a string of anecdotes of the
ton,
largely apocryphal. She was delighted to be reaching such an intimate footing with him and had already formed the plan to make Jonathon, by prayer or price, invite him to dine while Mr. Blandings was at Swallowcourt.