The Lady Julia Grey Bundle (58 page)

The coffee was replenished, and I had just made up my mind to excuse myself when Aquinas entered, Morag hard on his heels. Aquinas’ expression was as carefully schooled as ever, but his wiry grey hair was ever so slightly dishevelled, and his cuffs were not shot. Morag looked faintly deranged.

Aquinas made straight for my father, bent to his ear, and whispered. Father listened, then murmured, half to himself, “Good God, not this too.”

He waved a hand. “Tell Lady Julia. Something ought to be done to recover them.” He covered his face with a hand.

Around the table, cups and spoons stilled, conversation halted. Every face swivelled to face Aquinas expectantly. He cleared his throat.

“I regret to inform you,” he began, but Morag interrupted, her bony cheeks hot with indignation.

“Something of great value is missing in this house!” she announced to the assembled company. She paused, glancing slowly around the table, holding everyone’s gaze in a gesture Sarah Siddons would have envied. When she had circled the entire table, her eyes flashing, she lifted her chin and proclaimed, “The Grey Pearls have been stolen!”

T
o say that pandemonium broke out would be an understatement of the grossest kind. Naturally, I blamed Morag.

I rose and took her by the elbow, dragging her toward the potted palm in the corner. “What do you mean by coming in here and making an announcement like a character in a melodrama? What must our guests think?”

She wrenched her elbow from my grasp and folded her arms over her chest. “There is a dead man stinking in the game larder,” she reminded me sourly. “I hardly think a few missing pearls will be the ruin of this house party.”

“He does not stink,” I told her severely. “At least not much.”

A mêlée had erupted at the table behind us. Sir Cedric
had apparently tired of holding his temper and was shouting at Father, calling him Fagin and asking what sort of house he kept where innocent men were murdered and ladies’ jewels went missing. Father shouted back, calling him a jumped-up boot boy (a barbed reference to the fortune Sir Cedric made in selling cheap shoes to the working classes) while Hortense and Ludlow were busy coaxing them apart. Meanwhile, Violante was scolding Lysander in her native language in extremely colourful terms if Alessandro’s expression was any indication, and Plum had taken advantage of the pandemonium to cover Charlotte’s hand with his own.

Brisbane left them all to it and joined me. Morag bobbed him a clumsy curtsey, but her expression softened a touch. She would never admit it, but she was fond of Brisbane—for his slight Scottish burr, if nothing else.

“M’lord,” she murmured.

“Morag, always a pleasure,” he said as if he meant it. “When did you notice her ladyship’s jewels were missing?”

“Just now. I went to do her chamber—”

“You
just now
went to do my chamber?” I interrupted. As my lady’s maid, it was Morag’s duty to bring my morning tea, help me dress, then tidy the room and prepare my clothes for the afternoon. The fact that she had not touched my room until luncheon was highly unusual.

“I had to tend the wee doggie,” she informed me loftily. “She would only sip at the beef tea. Three trips I made to the kitchens for food for that animal. And then she had to—” She broke off, colouring slightly as she glanced at
Brisbane. “She had to
you know,
and I took her to the courtyard, only she would not put a paw on the snow. She kept rolling over and staggering until I finally scraped the snow out of one of those great stone boxes and found some greenery. I put her there and she did what nature expects.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward. “That bit of greenery was Father’s prized hare topiary.”

“Was it so? It did have a look of a rabbit, now that you mention it,” Morag mused.

Brisbane cleared his throat. The muscle in his jaw was not yet jumping, but it was twitching ever so slightly.

“Morag, kindly tell his lordship everything he needs to know about the pearls.”

The chaos behind us had eased to a mild roar, and it appeared Father and Sir Cedric were organising a truce. Father had stopped shouting and Sir Cedric had resumed his seat, his colour still alarmingly high.

Morag clucked her tongue, thinking hard. “Well, this morning, after I tended the wee doggie, I realised I had best look sharpish about finishing Lady Julia’s room because luncheon was nearly over. I went in with a bit of underlinen—” she whispered the word “—and that was when I realised the pearls were not on the dressing table.”

“What do you mean they were not on the dressing table? You did not put them away first thing this morning? They ought to have been locked up as soon as you finished dressing me.”

She pursed her lips. “And how was I supposed to do that and tend to Florence? You said to take care of the doggie.”

“Because I thought you understood the pearls were to be taken care of immediately.”

“But you did not
say
so,” Morag countered, her expression triumphant.

“I did not think I had to,” I said through gritted teeth. “I assumed you knew a parure of pearls worth thousands of pounds would be of a higher priority than ministering to the needs of a dog.”

“And you are quite certain the pearls were there this morning?” Brisbane cut in smoothly.

Morag and I paused, staring at one another.

“Now that you mention it…” she began.

“Oh,
no,
” I moaned. I had removed the pearls myself the previous evening, dropping them onto the dressing table when I had collected Morag to take her to the chapel to sit with Lucy. I could not say with certainty I had seen them since.

Morag shook her head. “No, m’lord. They were gone when I brought the tea things this morning.”

Brisbane’s eyes narrowed. “You are quite certain?”

She nodded. “I am. I remember now. I did not have to move them aside to put down the tea tray. Lady Julia put them square in the middle of the table last night. If they had been there this morning, they would have been in my way.”

Brisbane thought for a moment. “That will do for now, Morag.”

She bobbed another curtsey and fled, giving me one last nasty look over her shoulder.

“I cannot believe they are gone. So careless,” I fretted.

“Perhaps not gone. Just mislaid,” Brisbane said, his ex
pression thoughtful. He was staring at the luncheon guests, and in that instant, I knew he suspected someone in particular of having stolen them. But he said nothing.

Involuntarily, my hand went to my pocket, feeling the outline of the knotted handkerchief with its cache of Aunt Hermia’s humble jewels. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him what I had discovered in Snow’s room, but as I watched him stare at the assembled company, his expression smugly satisfied, I realised he had no intention of including me in his triumph.

He turned to me. “My lady?” He looked at me quizzically, inviting me to speak.

I smoothed my skirts. “Nothing, Brisbane. I am sure the pearls will turn up eventually.”

One development of that harrowing lunch party was the revelation to the company at large that Aunt Dorcas was missing. Father made the announcement after coffee, rather offhandedly, in my opinion.

The reaction was predictable. Sir Cedric flew into a rage again, and it took all of Henry Ludlow’s considerable powers of persuasion to settle him down. Portia and Plum fired questions at Father until he raised a hand for silence.

“A poor choice of words on my part. She is not missing. She is elsewhere, and I am assured she is in perfect health,” he finished smoothly, but there was an edge to his voice and I knew he was not as satisfied with the matter as he pretended.

The rest of us stared at each other in bewilderment.

“Such an unusual household,” Charlotte King mur
mured finally. “First jewels disappearing, now people. I begin to think I am in a faery story of the most fantastic kind.” Her lips trembled a little, and I almost felt sorry for her. “Perhaps we ought to look for her,” she ventured.

“Unnecessary,” Father cut in sharply. “Amuse yourselves as you will this afternoon. I shall be in my study and I do not wish to be disturbed unless God Almighty himself comes to call.”

He rose and threw down his napkin, stalking off, Crab and a few of her pups trotting closely behind.

Charlotte, perhaps chagrined at being dismissed so brutally, bit her lip. Plum leaned near and murmured something that brought a sudden smile to her face. Through it all, Brisbane appeared thoroughly disinterested. He merely sipped at his coffee as though waiting for something to happen.

For my part, all I could think on was the pearls and what Father had said of Aunt Dorcas’ penchant for pocketing little trinkets she admired. Was it possible she had taken my pearls and then fled with them? But the weather would have made that impossible, I reminded myself.

“Perhaps then a walk on the battlements of the boundary wall,” Charlotte said. “I should so like some fresh air.”

“That sounds delightful,” Plum said, his fez fairly quivering with anticipation. They made to depart, and I signalled to my brother.

“Plum, a word, dear. Mrs. King will want to fetch her warmest things if you mean to venture onto the battlements, and this will only take a moment.” He agreed, with
bad grace, and we watched as Violante rose quickly, with Hortense’s gentle support. She had soothed the girl and promised Lysander she would look after her and sit with her while she rested. Lysander gave her thanks, but grudgingly so. In spite of himself, he was beginning to like Father’s
inamorata.

Sir Cedric and Henry Ludlow excused themselves next, Ludlow moving quickly to keep up with his volatile kinsman. I had been correct in my initial estimation of Sir Cedric: he was only lightly civilised, as his behaviour of late had shown. He could play the gentleman well enough, but when provoked by circumstances, he reverted to the slum-born starveling. He had come so far from the poverty and degradation of his upbringing, I reflected, but I wondered if he had come quite so far as he pretended.

And as I regarded Sir Cedric, a horrible thought rose in my mind. If Lucy had indeed taken the blame for another’s crime deliberately, as well she might have, what man would she have better reason to shield than her own fiancé? Remembering the bruises on Snow’s neck, I glanced at Sir Cedric’s hands. The fingers themselves were not long, but his palms were broad as an ape’s. His handspan would fit the bruises perfectly. I looked from his sturdy hands to his supple wrists. It had been a mistake to look at this man and see only the web of wrinkles at his eyes, the mane of hair shot with silver. I had ignored the strength left in him, the savagery that might well lurk just below the surface. What would it take to rouse it? I wondered.

“I have to speak with Cook about tea,” Portia an
nounced. “That seed cake she served yesterday was appalling, and if she sends up wine biscuits one more time…of course she is very sensitive. She might just as well throw a cleaver at my head as give me a ginger biscuit.”

She rose and looped her arm through Alessandro’s, pulling him to his feet. “I know. I shall bring her this delicious young man as a peace offering.”

Alessandro seemed to struggle to find the proper words. “My lady, I would be very happy to accompany you, but Lady Julia’s pearls. Perhaps we ought to search for them.”

Portia smiled at him fondly. “Yes, and as soon as I have spoken to Cook, we will poke around belowstairs and see if we can find them. Perhaps Morag forgot what she was about and left them in the pantry.”

Alessandro threw me a pleading glance, but I pretended not to see it. As much as I enjoyed his company, and as much as he deserved to be rescued from my sister, I was acutely aware of his intentions after his declaration of the previous night. I had no wish to be alone with him until I had formed an answer to his question. At present, I could give him none. The investigation, with all its winding paths and blind alleys, demanded my full attention.

Finally, only Plum, Brisbane, and I remained in the dining room. I excused myself, dragging Plum into the transept while Brisbane savoured his coffee. I glanced around to make quite certain we were alone.

“What is it, Julia?” Plum asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“It is Alessandro. You’ve been frightfully negligent hosts,
you and Ly both. You must do something with him this afternoon.”

“Like what? In case you have failed to notice, the Abbey is inescapable.”

“Not for Aunt Dorcas,” I muttered.

He rolled his eyes. “Aunt Dorcas is famous for disappearing when there is trouble because usually she is the cause of it.”

I poked his chest as hard as I could, pressing hard on one of the tourmaline buttons of his waistcoat. “I hardly think she is responsible for the murder of Mr. Snow.”

“Ouch. I meant the theft of your pearls. She’s a terrible old cat about pearls, you must know that.”

“Father did say something to that effect,” I admitted. “But how did she leave the Abbey? And where is she now?”

Plum shrugged. “She might have gone to the village to call upon Uncle Fly. She might have taken the train to London. She might have gone home for all we know.”

I blinked at him. “I had not considered that. I suppose she might have left before the snow was too thick to travel. But
how?
”

“Julia, Father said not to worry. He has had word she is all right. She is probably sitting at the Home Farm, warming herself by the fire and driving Benedick to madness.”

I remembered then what Portia had said about Benedick braving the snow to come up to the Abbey and shout news to Father.

“Of course. I am just being silly. I’m sure she is perfectly fine. But about Alessandro—”

He groaned and raised his hands. “Very well. I promise to entertain him properly. But not now. Charlotte is waiting.”

A warning trembled on my tongue, but I swallowed it. Plum was a man fully grown. He would not thank me for interfering in his
affaires du coeur.

“Thank you, dearest. Mind you include Ly. He is looking frightfully peaky.”

Plum rolled his eyes again and left me, and I was glad of it. He had been in a frightfully bad temper for months, and his mood seemed to have darkened since we returned home. I trailed slowly back into the dining room and joined Brisbane at the table. I picked up my cup and put it down again. I had no appetite for cold coffee.

“What did you discover from Lucy?” he asked finally.

I pulled a face. “Nothing. She claims she has no memory whatsoever from the time she left the drawing room, until we found her, standing over Snow’s body, clutching the candelabrum.” A sudden thought occurred to me. Brisbane had a working knowledge of mesmerism. “Perhaps Lucy had been influenced by someone who knew how to wield the prodigious powers of the mind. Is that possible?”

Brisbane ran a hand over his temple. “Possible, but entirely too convenient for my taste.”

“Agreed,” I said briskly. “So the question is, whom is she protecting? Sir Cedric is the obvious choice.”