Aunt Sophie's Diamonds (18 page)

"It will not serve. You know it will not, and it is unkind of you to raise my hopes so."

"Don't raise your hopes too high. I have some nasty strings attached to the scheme."

"You mean to move us both in with mama, don't you?"

"No, my wheedling powers are not so enormous. But what an undutiful daughter you are, to consider living with your mama a nasty string."

"I didn't mean that! I have always wished she would let me stay with her, but she wouldn't have us. Not even
you
could arrange it."

His eyes hardened. “As it happens, that was not the stipulation I had in mind."

"Miss Bliss? But she would not be nasty in the least. I like her excessively."

"You fatigue your poor little brain to no account. I shall reveal the whole of my fell scheme in due time."

Despite his warning, she went on belaboring her brain. “If you mean to hire Miss Bliss—well, in fact, you already have—then I see no place for
me
in your scheme. Unless I could be Loo's abigail. I could handle that very well, if mama would permit it. But she wouldn't, not in London at least."

"It seems strange to me you should be interested in being a
servant
to your niece, or indeed to anyone.” His face was taking on its angry aspect, and Claudia did not continue the matter aloud. “Try this pigeon pie,” he said a moment later. “You will be back at Swallowcourt for dinner, you know."

She accepted a large wedge of it and other treats, and though Sir Hillary succeeded in diverting the conversation to other channels, her thoughts were still half on trying to decipher what plan he had in mind.

At the end of half an hour they had been fed and got back into their bonnets and pelisses for the beginning of their sight-seeing. Thoreau was to leave them for half an hour to attend to his business, while Gabriel took the ladies to stroll along Bond Street and see the shops.

"I expect you will want some blunt,” Hillary said to Luane. She held out her hand, and he folded some bills into it.

"Look, cousin, we are rich!” she said, showing the money to Claudia. “I shall buy you something, too, so you can save your guinea."

"Did your mother not think to give you some money?” he asked Claudia.

"I have some money,” she replied, embarrassed.

He did not, of course, enquire how much, but he was pretty sure the guinea was the extent of it. Again Claudia looked at him and wondered why he had that hard look in his eyes.

"Shall I buy my caps?” she asked, to ease the strain.

"No, take my advice, and buy yourself some heathen luxury,” he replied, his expression softening. Then he turned on his heel and left, to get back into the carriage.

Loo found a shop carrying her favorite coconut rolled in chocolate and cream, and another that purveyed all manner of “toys” for ladies. There she bought a hideous pair of paste stars for dancing slippers which she did not own and a chicken-skin fan for her cousin. With a guilty conscience and a streak of practicality, she then went to a clothing store and bought a pair of woolen hose to ward off the chill blasts of Swallowcourt. With wealth left to spare, she got Miss Bliss some wool, and a new red bridle for her horse.

Claudia looked in vain for a heathen luxury worth a guinea, and finding none, got some muslin to make handkerchiefs for grandpa.

When Sir Hillary left the group to attend to his business, he made only one short stop, at Hamlet the Jeweler's at the corner of Cranbourne Alley. He asked for Hamlet himself and presented to him that same packet given to him by Miss Bliss some hours before. The contents were examined carefully by the jeweler and, when Thoreau returned the parcel to his inner pocket, he wore a satisfied smile. He went to meet the others for the matinee performance of the horses at Astley's Circus.

Gabriel was still child enough to be delighted by the show, and man enough not to care to show it. He smiled quite condescendingly at Loo when she grabbed his arm and said she was sure the lady with hardly any clothes on was going to fall off the white horse, for she was standing up and at a canter, too, without even holding on.

The day was mercilessly short. They went for a drive in the carriage to see Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey from the outside only—there was no time to go inside. At four they had to depart, and it was with a forlorn sigh and a last look out the windows that they took their leave of London.

Luane had to open her parcels and show her guardian how wisely she had invested her money. He winced at the paste stars, shook his head at the fan, and smiled at the woolen hose. “Not completely given over to dissipation, I see,” he congratulated her. “And what sybaritic indulgence have
you
been squandering your guinea on, Miss Milmont?"

She showed him her muslin. “Oh, for your caps,” Loo said.

"Just so, and with the remainder I shall get blue ribbons, to match my eyes,” she prevaricated.

"To seduce the widowers,” Hillary nodded. “Tell me, is it a necessity that the gentleman be a widower, or would an elderly bachelor do?"

"A bachelor would not have a ready-made family,” Claudia pointed out.

"I happen to know one who has."

"Then he cannot be a very proper person, sir, and I am surprised you speak to me of him."

"What a nasty mind you have, little Claudia. There are other ways to acquire a family than to sire them yourself. All it takes is a death in the family, and a bachelor may find himself saddled with a couple of brats."

"I didn't think of that,” she confessed, chastened.

"It's pretty clear your mind was straying where a young girl's mind has no right to be. I'm shocked at you,” he charged with mock severity.

"It comes from reading of so much lechery in the Bible,” she replied.

"Yes, there is nothing like the Bible to pervert a pure mind,” he agreed, and the subject was allowed to drop.

They stopped at Hornchurch for tea, and were back at Swallowcourt at seven-thirty, only a half hour later than planned. The gentlemen descended from the carriage, and as Hillary sent the driver around to the stable, it was assumed they meant to come inside for a while.

Luane bustled in first, eager to tell of her marvelous activities, but she was greeted by a captain pacing up and down the Crimson Saloon, with a full budget of his own to be disclosed, and an irate Mrs. Milmont, willing to help him. Before the visiting gentlemen had their curled beavers and capes bestowed, they were hauled into the Saloon.

"You've gone too far this time, Thoreau,” Tewksbury charged. “I've had the constable at my door—my door! threatening to take against
me
because of them wild beasts you've had set to watch Aunt Sophie's grave."

"It cannot be illegal,” Thoreau replied calmly. “Fletcher would not have done it if it were."

"No, and if you and Fletcher hadn't done it, the dogs wouldn't have gone chewing up the vicar's brat. Well, I wash my hands of the matter. Told him
I
had nothing to do with it, and he must see you and Fletcher. If there's to be a legal action and damages and so on, it won't come out of
my
pockets."

"It is impossible to take out what is not in,” Thoreau agreed. “The vicar's boy—was he badly mauled?"

"They've had the sawbones sent over—and
that
will come out of your purse, too."

"I thought at the time it was a barbarous idea,” Marcia added her two groats.

"Strange you didn't express your thoughts; you are not usually so reticent, Marcia,” Thoreau said in an ironic tone.

"How badly was the boy hurt?” Loo asked, as her guardian's question was not answered.

"How the deuce should we know?” Jonathon snapped. “The constable said he was bitten badly."

"Bronfman was not to let the dogs run loose. I can't believe he let them consume the boy entirely. It is likely no more than a nip,” Thoreau said, tossing his cape on a chair, and throwing his hat on top of it,

"Well, whatever they did, the constable says he's getting an injunction to have the dogs called off, and he's going to see you tomorrow—and the vicar, too."

"Thank you for the warning,” Hillary nodded. “I shall have my purse ready. Well, well, how exciting. Perhaps we should have stayed home, eh, girls? Always in the wrong place at the wrong time. See what an adventure you have missed."

"Are the dogs still there tonight?” Miss Milmont asked, which brought a resigned sigh to Thoreau's lips.

"Yes, Bronfman wouldn't leave without Sir Hillary telling him so, but he's keeping the dogs on a short leash,” Jonathon answered.

"Oh.” Her monosyllable was despondent. “But they will he gone tomorrow night?"

"Positively,” Sir Hillary assured her. “We can't have them eating up any innocent child who wanders through the place. One would think they took their meals at Swallowcourt."

"What's that supposed to mean?” Jonathon asked, on the defensive.

"Exactly what you think,” Hillary replied. Then he turned to Mrs. Milmont. “You see I have brought your little girl back safe and sound, as I promised. And you forgot to give her pocket money. A regrettable oversight. She couldn't buy the ribbons for her caps."

"Caps? What nonsense is this? My little girl won't be putting on her caps for decades yet, and I am sure she had plenty of money, if she wanted to buy some ribbons."

"I daresay she could have got both the ribbons and the muslin from her guinea if she had shopped wisely."

"
Why
, I bought her ribbons in Maldon just the other day."

"Don't pay any attention to him, mama,” Claudia said. “He is only funning, you know.” She then directed a quelling stare on Sir Hillary.

He turned aside to her and said in a low voice, “I forget myself. My intentions will not prosper if I rattle on so heedlessly. And besides, I have something of much greater interest to discuss than your caps."

He then turned to the group and cleared his throat.
"Attention, s'il vous plaît!
Have you been into your cellars yet, Jonathon? I hope they yield something better than that inferior sherry usually served. I have an announcement of some significance to make. It really calls for champagne, as it regards diamonds."

"Eh?” Jonathon's eyes nearly started from his head.

"Yes, you heard aright. It involves the Beresford Diamonds, or to be more precise, Diamond, in the singular."

"What, just one?” Jonathon asked sharply.

"That's what I said. Just one. Yes, you are looking at an heiress,” his eyes turned to Luane, who was looking as much mystified as the others. “One of the stones in the necklace you were given was the genuine article, brat. The biggest one too, that great egg that hangs off the front of the necklace."

"I'm rich!” Luane shouted and clapped her hands in glee.

"How did you find out?” Jonathon asked.

"The same way you did, I fancy. I happened to notice the cut on the glass case where they are kept. I was sure it was not there before, and it occurred to me it was the sort of incision a diamond might make on glass. It was but a step to wonder if the diamond that cut it was not in the case, and by trying the stones, I discovered which one it was. How fortunate for Loo that it was the largest one. I took the necklace to Hamlet today, and he confirmed my theory. So your old Aunt Sophie didn't do so badly by you after all, Loo."

"It is a mistake,” Mrs. Milmont said. “She didn't mean to give Luane a real diamond."

"I think she did,” Hillary contradicted. “The wording of the will was rather peculiar as I recall, said the contents of the case ‘exactly as they are now are’ or ‘stand'—something of the sort—were to go to Loo. And I don't see how the switch could possibly have been made accidentally."

There was a good deal of general discussion, argument, and angry cries; but eventually the news was accepted as true and irrefutable, and the request for wine was repeated by Sir Hillary.

It was not champagne but Madeira that was produced, and with everyone having to re-assess his or her plans, there was a little silence while they sipped. Then little groups broke into excited chatter anew.

"The dogs will be gone tomorrow night you say?” Jonathon asked Hillary.

"Yes, Captain, you'd do much better to wait till tomorrow night to go after the necklace,” Thoreau informed him nonchalantly.

"Nobody said anything about going after the necklace."

"I really didn't expect to be told in so many words."

"It was Gab that went digging her up the very night she was buried, you might happen to remember."

"Yes, but
he
hadn't seen the scratch on the glass case. We mustn't be too hard on him. It was very quick of you to have noticed it, by the by. When did you first perceive it?"

"Don't know what you're talking about,” Jonathon insisted.

"No one is listening; we might as well be alone, and I promise you
I
shan't tell a soul. Was it when Loo threw the necklace down in a fit of pique the day the will was read? It must have been then. So it was that rather than your awareness of the inner steel lining in the coffin that deterred you from having a go in the graveyard that first night. I thought your surprise quite genuine when you heard of it the next morning. You didn't see the glass case again till the night of my little dinner party—oh dear! And that, of course, is why you koshed poor Miss Milmont on the head, knowing she wore a fortune in diamonds. And here we accused the girl of imagining the whole; or alternatively
you
of going after her emerald ring. But what prevented you from making the snatch that night? Did someone disturb you? My servants have no consideration, I fear."

"Don't be so foolish,” Jonathon said.

"It is foolish of me to expect a confession, when the evidence is all circumstantial. But how well it hangs together! You made the deuce of a mess in my study, Jon. Didn't you know I never keep anything valuable in that safe? And I am quite angry with you for hitting Miss Milmont. That was ungentlemanly in the extreme. But I see you dislike the subject, and who shall blame you? Let us speak of other things. Did my servants give you a good breakfast? I hope so, and I hope you didn't waste too much time looking for the necklace while I was gone. I thought of telling you I had it with me, but then I said, no, let him have his little fun. He will be missing the excitement of making plans to thwart Boney, and this is the very thing to divert him. I took the precaution of leaving the necklace with Miss Bliss last night and picking it up this morning, in case you decided to try sleepwalking."