Aunt Sophie's Diamonds (5 page)

"A good deal must depend on the will. But you are not to worry about the funeral party. They will come to Chanely."

While Captain Tewksbury was secretly delighted to hear of the arrangement, and Mrs. Milmont similarly thrilled to be at last getting a toe into Chanely, they both felt some show of reluctance to be called for.

"Seems to me,” Jonathon said, “people ought to come here. Looks as if I'm slighting the old girl, foisting the party off on you."

"You are only a connection,” Marcia reminded him.

Sir Hillary examined his fingernails and said nothing.

"As the new owner of Swallowcourt, the honor ought to be mine,” Jonathon declared. “Her nephew, too."

"Well, so am I her nephew,” Gabriel pointed out, “and I live at Chanely."

"That is a point well taken,” Marcia allowed, not wishing to push this objecting too far.

"You ain't her heir,” Jonathon retaliated.

"You don't know that,” Gabriel replied. “You only get Swallowcourt because of the entail. There's no saying you'll get anything else."

"There is no food for the guests here,” Luane pointed out.

"Well, I wouldn't want to put on a shabby do,” Jonathon backed off, knowing when to give in.

"That's what I thought,” Hillary replied quietly. Then he and his nephew made their adieux and left.

The announcement of the death and funeral were made at chapel on Sunday. It was an unusually brief period between death and burial, but it had been her wish, and everyone seemed happy to get it over and done with. Some callers came to Swallowcourt on Sunday, despite a dismal, cold rain. In fact, there was a good deal of peculiar traffic to the old mansion. Such various persons as the solicitor, Mr. Fletcher, the steelmonger, Mr. Peoples, bearing a large covered box on his wagon, Jed Flaro, the blacksmith, also in a lumbering, heavy wagon, and the local midwife, Widow Heppersmith, who also performed the unhappy chore of ‘laying out’ the dear departed. Tewksbury had suggested that Miss Bliss and Luane should perform this homey chore, but both roundly declined, the latter saying she wouldn't touch the corpse with a pair of tongs.

Sir Hillary and Gabriel came, too, in the late afternoon. As a sop for undertaking the arrangements for the funeral feast, Jonathon offered them the hospitality of the house for dinner, but this was an offer declined as frequently as it was made, for they were well aware of the sort of meal served at Swallowcourt. They remained only half an hour, which was sufficiently long for Sir Hillary to come to cuffs with the captain on the conduct of the campaign against Napoleon, and with Mrs. Milmont over the custom of damped gowns for ladies. Thinking to toadeat him, Marcia had inveighed against the new fad, and Sir Hillary, who thought it the crudest idea in a decade, decreed that it was unexceptionable, providing the figure of the wearer warranted such exposure.

"What a contradictory man he is,” Mrs. Milmont said to her daughter after he had left.

"I thought you liked to wear your gowns damped, mama.” Claudia reminded her.

"Well, if the figure warrants it,” she allowed, smiling and pulling in her stomach.

"Why did you say you disapproved then?"

"I made sure he would be against it. Those fast men are so contrary. There is never any saying what will please them. They are usually very strict about the conduct of
ladies,
and never mind what they tolerate or encourage in the other sort. He holds himself as high as may be in society and looks down his nose at any hint of impropriety. How I wish he would invite me to one of his parties."

"You are invited to Chanely for the funeral party."

"Ninnyhammer!
That
is not a party in the least, though I am curious to see what the place is like. All the crack, I daresay, and it will be fine to mention in London that I was at Chanely. But I meant one of his
ton
parties in the city. One may meet everyone there."

"Does he never ask you? How very odd, when he calls you ‘darling'."

"He calls everyone that, though when he happens to meet me in London, it is ‘Good morning, Mrs. Milmont,’ especially when I am with anyone. He is so contrary there is no bearing it. He will never call one ‘darling’ when she wishes it. So very friendly,” she finished up with a little sniff.

"He is certainly odd,” Claudia confessed. “But Gabriel is nice, is he not?"

"He is well enough, or will be if he inherits the money. Otherwise there will be nothing but for him to take a position, and that, you know, will set him down sadly."

"How will he manage if he doesn't inherit anything?"

"Sir Hillary will get him some sinecure. He will be a member of Parliament or a minister's secretary, or some such thing."

"He is very young."

"That has nothing to say to it.
Pull
—that is what it takes. And Sir Hillary quite dotes on the boy. That much is obvious. Run over and make up to the captain, love. He is very taken with you, I promise you."

"I cannot like him, mama."

"Silly creature, what is that to the point? Swallowcourt is his for a certainty, and till we see where the money and jewelry go, there is no point being unfriendly. There, he's smiling at you. Go and give him a game of chess."

There was no necessity for Claudia to go to the captain. His charms were evenly divided between her and Luane till the will should be read. In fact, Miss Milmont received something more than half his attentions, for her handsome allowance and inheritance were a settled thing in his mind, and the girl, while not a dasher, was not ugly in the least, only a little plainer than he really liked. She wouldn't turn any heads, but he could get her rigged out in a higher style than she now wore. He declined a game of chess, but offered to show her over his place, an offer that was accepted and occupied most of the time till dinner was called.

Sophie's corpse was left at home till the funeral, but by the wish of the deceased it was not exhibited. The casket was not only kept closed, but out of sight entirely. Its resting place, oddly enough, was the stables. The captain did not offer to take Miss Milmont to view that portion of his estate because of the weather, nor did he have the faintest notion what was going on there himself. Only Fletcher, the ironmonger, and the blacksmith knew. They attributed it—at least the latter two persons—to some eccentricity in the deceased, a fear of worms consuming her body maybe, and thought only that it was a grisly chore to perform on a Sunday afternoon.

The funeral on Monday morning was uneventful. The family went together to the church, and the ladies directly to Chanely afterwards, while the gentlemen repaired to the burial grounds for the interment. The pallbearers, Sir Hillary, the captain, Gabriel, and three local gentlemen, all of husky build, struggled under the weight of the casket, but none of them were much accustomed to carrying coffins and suspected nothing amiss.

Mrs. Milmont was suitably impressed by the grandness of Chanely—a large stately home that might have been a castle. An expanse of marbled floor in the hallway laid out in black and white squares like a chessboard first caught her eye, and before any close scrutiny of the surroundings could be completed, the guests were ushered into the Blue Saloon by the housekeeper, Mrs. Robinson, a woman of genteel birth and impoverished background.. Mrs. Milmont had hoped to scout around downstairs before the arrival of Sir Hillary but her hope was thwarted. She was given a seat in a needlepoint chair, handed a glass of sherry, and forced into polite conversation with the rest of the group.

The richness of the room before her led her to suspect untold glories in the remainder of the building, but as her comments in London would have to be limited to the Blue Saloon, she took a careful inventory of its furnishings and accessories that she might point out a similarity in a friend's decor to some feature of Chanely.

It was not long before the arrival of the others, and after eating, drinking, and merrymaking of a more restrained sort than usually prevails at a wake, the party was over.

"Fletcher will be waiting at Swallowcourt,” Sir Hillary said, and watched with a rueful smile the haste with which his little party broke up.

All those with any particular interest in the will were duly assembled a half-hour later in Sophie's Crimson Saloon. Mr. Fletcher, a saturnine man with dark eyes and the black suit of his calling, frowned at the document under his hands, cleared his throat, and began to read. The smaller bequests to old family retainers were read first, and these underlings were then given to understand they might go and resume their customary business. The captain was not so nervous as the others, yet he breathed a sigh of relief when it was confirmed that Swallowcourt went to him, entailed to his son, with the possibilities all covered in case of his death before producing an heir, and so on. Miss Bliss received a thousand pounds for long service faithfully rendered. Sir Hillary was not surprised to become the official guardian of Miss Beresford, though Luane seemed to find it quite amusing. The next item mentioned stirred the auditors to some interest.

"'The Tewksbury jewelry collection, with the exception of the Beresford diamond necklace, is to be disposed of as follows: the pearl necklace, the emerald ring, the ruby ring, the diamond diadem, the bracelet of various stones, and the sapphire pendant are to be present at the reading of my will. In the following order of predominance, each of the after-named people are to choose one piece: my sister, Mrs. Milmont; my elder niece, Miss Claudia Milmont; my younger niece, Miss Luane Beresford; my younger nephew, Gabriel Tewksbury; my elder nephew, Jonathon Tewksbury; and my companion, Miss Lavinia Bliss.'

"We will proceed with the selection now,” Mr. Fletcher said. “It was her wish.” He drew out a bolted metal box—the one usually hidden in the cellar—and unbolted it. The named pieces were laid out on the surface of the desk.

"But what about the diamonds?” Mrs. Milmont enquired immediately. “They are the most valuable piece in the collection. Surely they should be here, too. I should prefer to choose the diamonds."

"They are to be disposed of separately,” Mr. Fletcher said firmly.

"Well, upon my word, I hardly know what to choose,” Mrs. Milmont said, smiling greedily at the whole assortment.

"You always liked the pearls, mama,” Claudia mentioned.

"So I did, love. I like them excessively, but I am not sure the emerald ring is not more valuable. What do you think, Sir Hillary?"

"The pearls are large, and perfectly matched,” he replied. Everyone got up and gathered around the desk to view the treasures and silently pick out his own favorite.

"Very true, they are, and then Claudia can have the emerald ring."

"I prefer the ruby,” Claudia said.

"Nonsense, my dear, the emerald is larger, and I much prefer it. Or you might take the tiara. It will set off my little diamond clips to a nicety. Though really the diamonds in the tiara are very small, and they do not shine very brightly either. I daresay they are inferior stones. You will do better to have the emerald."

"First, you must choose, ma'am,” Mr. Fletcher said.

"I
think
the pearls—but one can get such very good imitations for an old song, and there is no imitating an emerald. But Claudia can have the emerald if I take the pearls. Which do you think is the more valuable, Mr. Fletcher?"

"I should think the pearls, considering the length of the rope and their size, but I cannot give you a positive answer. It is a very fine emerald."

"To be sure it is. I have never seen one so large. But Claudia ... Well, I could be here all day deciding. I'll have the pearls then.” She snatched them up and immediately put them around her neck. She was so enraptured and so busy testing them with her teeth to verify their authenticity that she hardly remembered to urge the emerald on Claudia. “Take your emerald, Claudia,” was all she said.

"I like the ruby, mama."

"Silly chit. It isn't worth a thing. It is done up so oddly, with no facets to it. I hate red stones. Anyone would take it for a garnet or some such thing.” She interrupted this tirade to try another pearl with her teeth. “Yes, they are nice and rough,” she said to her daughter. “The glass pearls are as smooth as may be to the tooth. It is a good thing to remember, my dear. You must always test a pearl against the teeth."

"Well, I'll have the emerald then,” Claudia said, a little reluctantly.

Her mother reached out her hand for it, but Claudia slipped it on her own finger and liked it pretty well.

"I'll take the ruby and we'll trade,” Luane whispered to Claudia.

"No, take the tiara. You like it."

Luane took up the diamond tiara.

"I'm next I think,” the captain said, coming forward.

"Mr. Gabriel Tewksbury is next,” Mr. Fletcher corrected him.

"I'm the elder. Better have another look at your paper, my good man,” Jonathon said.

Fletcher looked and repeated the order of predominance.

"What should I have, Uncle Hil?” Gabriel asked.

"Have the ruby."

"I wanted the ruby,” Jonathon said, with a look at Claudia that startled her.

"Gabriel has next choice, however,” Hillary said carelessly. The young man took the ruby.

"Well, I'm next then,” Jonathon announced, shouldering forward. “Which do you prefer, Miss Milmont?"

"The sapphire is prettier, but I daresay the bracelet may be more valuable. There are a few quite good-sized stones in it."

The captain hesitated, with some thought that whichever he chose might be a wedding gift to his bride, who might possibly be Miss Milmont. His hand hovered over the pendant, but greed won out in the end, and he picked up the bracelet.

"That leaves the sapphire pendant for me,” Miss Bliss said, satisfied. “I didn't expect anything like this, after the thousand pounds. She did promise me that.” Not that I ever thought to see it, she added to herself.

"Now let us get on to the diamonds,” Mrs. Milmont said eagerly. Aside to her daughter she added, “I'd like to try on the emerald, dear."

"I can't get it off, Mama. It's stuck,” Claudia said.