Aunt Sophie's Diamonds (28 page)

"No, I usually just jaunter about in a little open phaeton and pair, but I brought my traveling carriage with me, and have no other conveyance at my convenience here. You will be all right, Mrs. Milmont?” he asked with concern.

"Is something the matter, mama?"

"Nothing in the world. Mr. Blandings is leaving. That's all."

"So soon?” She hoped mama had not had a tiff with her wealthy suitor.

"It's oh revwahr, not good-by,” he said. “I've been put on to a little property over Chelmsford way—a thousand acres with a mansion on it, that's looking for a mortgage. The terms the agent mentioned sound good, and will be better before the deal's closed or I ain't the Trump of Mortgagees, heh, heh. Wish me well, Marcia. I won't be back tonight. It'll be dark, and I won't be able to pace it out when I get there. Tomorrow I'll be up bright and early and into my walking boots. I'll just remind my man to pack them. I never travel without my walking boots. Tell Sir Hillary—well, there's no need to tell him anything. He is taking care of that—er, other matter we spoke of. I must run up and have a bag packed. I'll be down presently, my dear,” he said to Mrs. Milmont. “You'll wait and say good-by to me, I hope?"

He nipped up the stairs two at a time, so eager was he to be off snapping up another mortgage, and Mrs. Milmont and her daughter went into the Crimson Saloon to await his descent.

"What an interesting life he leads,” Claudia said.

"As to that, he seldom goes to a party, and spends all his time in business deals. I doubt he attends the opera three times a year, though he takes an excellent box for the season."

"He could go to the
ton
parties if he wished. Sir Hillary said
he
would not object to knowing him socially, and as far as that goes..."

"Did he indeed?” her mother asked eagerly. “How came he to say such a thing?"

"We were just talking. I told him Mr. Blandings had arrived and the subject arose."

"And Sir Hillary said that? Dear me, if he only meant it, it would make everything ... But no doubt he was being satirical."

"No, he was serious. He thinks Mr. Blandings an excellent man."

"I had not thought Sir Hillary would take any notice of him."

"He says there are a dozen young girls throwing their caps at him, and once he is married, I suppose he will ease up on his business and lead a more sociable sort of a life."

"What young girls?” Mrs. Milmont asked sharply.

"He didn't give any names, mama. They would not be known to me, you know."

"It's Miss Warren, that's who it is. Mr. Blandings mentioned her name twice recently. Had some dealings with her papa—he was selling Jerry some jewelry, I believe. They are all to pieces and would be eager to nab him."

"Very likely she is one of them. I wonder who the other eleven could be."

Mrs. Milmont was entering into a state of high perturbation, to hear of these incursions on her beau's affections. “Mrs. Dorringer is another, mark my word, though she is no longer a young girl, I assure you. Twice she has paid me morning calls, and I was at a loss to discover the reason. I scarcely know the woman, and she is very good
ton,
too. She looked to meet him at my home, bold hussy. Certainly that is what she was at, for now I come to think of it, she asked me half a dozen times whether I was going out, or whether I was expecting any other company. Here I thought it was Jonathon she was after. And wasn't she wearing a new bonnet each time, too, and a pound of rouge on either cheek."

"A man of his handsome appearance and wealth will surely be snapped up quickly enough,” Claudia said airily. “It's a pity
you
could not bring him up to the mark, mama."

"Not
bring ... you silly chit! He has been hounding me to have him any time these two years. It is only with the greatest effort I have held him at bay so long. Did he not name his country place after me—Marcyhurst? And you heard him say the other night ... Well, upon my word, I think I must make up my mind very rapidly.” She did so in about a tenth of a second.

Claudia quietly excused herself, that they might have privacy to bring their amour to a head before the Trump went dashing off to pace out the environs of Chelmsford.

It was conveyed to Mr. Blandings by a coy smile and a hint that she wished for his speedy return, that her affections were reaching their apogee; and he, no skulker when opportunity knocked, popped the question again as he hastened to the door with his walking boots tucked under his arm. It was settled in the hall, and before he was out the front door he was enquiring whether she would prefer Lady Nolan's emerald cut diamond or the Duchess of Avon's emerald baguette for an engagement ring.

"Both, by Jove. I'll give you both,” he chuckled.

"Oh, Jerry,” she slapped his arm playfully. “Next you will be saying you want to give me a different one for every day of the week."

"Why not, eh?” he laughed merrily. “We'll decide as soon as I am back. I can't dally, for Curzon is interested in this Chelmsford property, and he is such a flat he will give them a better offer than I mean to do. I think I can screw the fellow up to twelve per cent. I feel this is my lucky day. Tomorrow we'll set the date and all that.” He was off, contented that Lady Luck had now favored him in the heart as well as the pocketbook.

Marcia Milmont went up to her room to be congratulated by her daughter, who was accidentally the first to bear the stunning news; and to drop a half a dozen notes to her bosom bows informing each in secret that she had accepted an offer from Mr. Blandings, since he wouldn't be put off any longer.

It was not much later that Sir Hillary fulfilled his promise to return to Swallowcourt to see the Milmont ladies. He did not speak to the mother, however, as the daughter diverted him from it by telling him in some alarm that Luane had been gone since morning.

"Has anything been done to find her?” he asked.

"Miss Bliss felt she had only gone for a ride into Billericay, but it is four hours now, and she would surely be back. Do you not think we ought to go looking for her?"

"Yes, certainly. Get a bonnet and pelisse, and tell your mother where we're going."

This was done, and within five minutes they were going at a quick pace down the hill to Chanely, thence to the main road. “She wouldn't have done something foolish like run away, would she?” Hillary asked.

"I looked in her room, and nothing is gone."

No trace of her was found at Billericay, even when they appealed to Miss Miller, the queen of gossips, who surveyed the village constantly from her bow window.

"At least she hasn't run away with Gabriel, for he was on the post by the time she left the house,” Claudia comforted her companion.

"Scatterbrain that she is, I don't think she's eloped without a nightshirt. I'll take you home and if she isn't back, go on to Maldon. We don't want the family worrying about two runaway brides."

"Speaking of brides, there is another one, but in no danger of elopement. Mama has accepted Mr. Blandings."

Hillary smiled and nodded. “This will set Jonathon hot on your trail. Remember to avoid him."

"He has something else on his mind. I saw him collecting tools with Tuggins. Very likely he means to dig up Sophie, and he won't have a bit of competition either, for everyone else has dropped out."

Hillary heard this with no great concern and immediately changed the subject. “When do you think your mother will marry?"

"Not very soon, with Aunt Sophie just buried."

"Yes,
she
is a sister. It would be improper for
her
to wed soon."

Miss Milmont ignored this meaningful comment, and drew his attention to a particularly fine stand of willows growing along the creek's edge. Back at Swallowcourt, a second searching of Loo's room brought to light the half-written letter. It was read without compunction by Sir Hillary who said, “She started to light into him by letter but changed her mind. She must certainly have gone after him."

Miss Bliss, when appealed to, thought it unlikely, without so much as a bandbox to hold a change of linen.

"The girl hasn't two bits of brain to rattle together. I thank God she is at least not wearing that green poke bonnet to call attention to herself. I'll leave for Maldon at once and see if I can pick up her trail."

"She has such a head start on you, you won't overtake her tonight,” Claudia remarked.

Sir Hillary and Miss Bliss exchanged a worried glance. “The devil of it is I have spoken to Miss Miller of her flight,” Hillary said.

"It is as good as announced in a paper,” Miss Bliss informed him.

"Looks like another wedding on our hands,” Thoreau said grimly. “If she overtook him, and I can't think she would have stayed away so long otherwise, I sincerely hope they find some minister to marry them before nightfall."

"She's under age,” Miss Bliss said. “They couldn't even get a special license."

Sir Hillary promised to let them know at once if he discovered anything, but the ladies could think of no means of letting him know if she returned before him. It was learned of a footboy half an hour later that she had been seen on the road to Maldon, and they gave up on any local search.

Sir Hillary's misgivings mounted to alarm as he followed the course of his charges. Their trail was picked up at Maldon and followed to Witham where he learned they had headed north. He was certain they were en route to Gretna Green for a marriage over the anvil. He hastened to Braintree, thinking they meant to hire a chaise there and never even stopped for a moment when he went past the rector's house, where they were ensconced. At Braintree, his most diligent enquiries drew a blank. It was pitch black by then, and his team puffed from the hot pace he had set. As he dined he examined a map, and decided that for some unknown reason they had gone northeast to Colchester rather than due north to Braintree. He stabled his team, rented a nag and set out in the dark for the twenty-mile ride to Colchester, reaching it at midnight.

His thoughts wandered widely—to his own share of blame in not permitting them to marry sooner, to Claudia, to Marcia and the Trump, and to Jonathon. He'd have easy pickings of the necklace tonight. By morning the casket would have been pried open and with no witness. Have to find the necklace in his possession to prove him the culprit. With so much to ponder, the trip passed quickly, yet he was bushed when he reached Colchester. If they were there, they were bedded down at some public inn, disgraced in the eyes of the world. He'd have to see them married before he took them home and pretend the ceremony had taken place a day sooner. Damned fools. The stables were closed, and his enquiries had to wait till morning. He booked a room at an inn and left a call for six the next morning. The rounds of stables and coaching offices took up a good deal of time, and he came to the decision that his best bet was to go straight to Gretna Green and hope to meet them there. With this in mind, he must return to Braintree and get his own fast team.

It was drawing on to noon by the time he arrived, and the first sight of interest to meet his eyes was Gabriel and Luane, straggling along the street, leading Loo's mount. The pair of them looked so bedraggled and in such ill humor with each other that he had hardly the heart to give them the trimming they deserved. When Luane promptly broke into lusty sobs in front of the whole town, he hustled them into an inn's private parlor to hear their story. It was delivered in a disjointed fashion, with each contradicting the other when any allotting of blame arose, which is to say, every minute.

But the gist of it was soon discovered, and Sir Hillary breathed a sigh of relief to hear that at least they had found a decent night's lodging. He smiled too at the attempts of the rector to hold on to them till their parents should arrive, and their sneaking away by pretending to be going to church, when they really were setting off for Braintree to hire a chaise to go home. Gabriel was as abject as a whipped puppy, and Loo too tired to fight.

"Now what is to be done with the pair of you?” Hillary asked, more of himself than them.

"I can get on to Cambridge now that you're here,” Gabriel offered, to make amends.

"I think not, cawker."

"If you mean because it's Sunday..."

"You think I can object to that after the shenanigans you've been up to! You don't seem to realize you've put Loo in the devil of a position—or she has put herself in one. The whole neighborhood knows she's gone, and has a fair notion she's with you. Your having been away overnight together gives rise to the worst possible reflections."

"Do you mean I am
compromised?"
Loo asked, brightening remarkably. “Must he truly marry me now?"

Hillary observed the light in Gabriel's eyes, the whisper of a smile playing on his lips, and the quick but hopeful glance the would-be lovers exchanged.

"I hope you mean to do the right thing by her,” he said to Gabriel.

"I will! The old weasel of a rector was hinting he'd do it for us—though why he thought it necessary when he put Loo in his daughter's room—and it was a maiden's chamber, behind his own and his wife's, with no access from the hall—so he can't think I—that is—it was all very proper, uncle."

"Oh yes,
very
proper! It is a pity our neighbors aren't aware of the propriety of the whole escapade. But this coming on top of your little candlelight dinner in Billericay the other evening is bound to set up gossip."

"I shall wear white,” Luane said, falling into a careless rapture. “Cousin Claudia will be my bridesmaid, and
you
can be..."

"Before you dash off a note hiring St. George's in Hanover Square, I might point out, brat, that it is to be done with the utmost dispatch, preferably before we return."

"I haven't a stitch with me! I can't be married in this dusty old gown I have walked miles in!"

"Oh, lord, and my bags gone on ahead on the post,” Gabriel said, remembering his oversight of yesterday. “Couldn't we go home and change, uncle?"

"What a pair!” Hillary shook his head in wonder, but being preoccupied with marriage himself, he was in a tender mood. “One day can make no difference. Claudia will like to be there, too. We'll arrange with our minister to do it tomorrow then, in a quiet way. It will look better if such of the family as is in the vicinity attends, but I can't be your best man, Loo. It will be my duty to give you away. And a relief it will be to be rid of you."