by Sheila Walsh
Mr Cartwright’s voice droned on, tidying up the few final bequests and solemnly bringing the Will to its conclusion.
Was Beau’s accusation justified? Theo remembered his quarrel with Benedict only yesterday ‒ the one she had interrupted. And much further back, when her grandfather had first announced to her his intentions ‒ had it not crossed her mind at that time that there was some collusion between her grandfather and Benedict? And yet, surely, if Benedict wanted the money, he had only to guide the ailing Viscount’s thoughts in that direction?
Theo felt slightly sick. Wasn’t that exactly what he had been doing until she came on the scene? Selina had been convinced of it. And perhaps, cleverly, he had changed tack when he saw the closeness developing between herself and her grandfather, and decided that there were other ways of achieving his objective.
Mr Cartwright was gathering his papers together, clearing his throat. Benedict rose from the table without a word and crossed to the massive sideboard, dispensing ratafia for the ladies and returning to the table with a decanter in one hand and a clutch of glasses in the other. He poured the wine and pushed a glass across the polished surface towards the perspiring attorney.
‘There ‒ you have earned that, I think,’ he said drily, and took his own drink across to the fireplace, where he stood staring down, deep in thought.
Beau had himself in hand now, but as he reached for one of the glasses and began to sip the contents, Theo decided that she had rather he ranted than looked at one in that unnerving way.
‘So ‒ now we know,’ he said, and one might have been deceived into thinking it the old languid Beau, were it not for the narrowed glittering eyes. ‘A very pretty piece of work! But it’s a cock that won’t fight! I shall, of course, have the Will overset.’
‘I don’t advise it, my lord,’ said Mr Cartwright in some trepidation. ‘There are no grounds …’
‘You think not? An old man whose wits were clearly addled by illness, gulled by a devious little American interloper into believing she had brought him back from the dead ‒ oh, she had him tagged and tied in no time at all!’ His words, low and vitriolic, cut Theo to the heart, and any lingering sympathy she might have entertained for Beau in his misfortune vanished.
Benedict was across the room in a flash, leaning across the table, his clenched knuckles on the polished surface betraying his anger.
‘You will withdraw that scurrilous accusation at once, or answer to me for it, though you are almost twice my age!’
‘Benedict, don’t! There is no need,’ Theo said.
‘Gentlemen, I beg of you!’ pleaded the harassed lawyer. ‘Sir, I saw his late lordship myself not above two weeks since, and there can be no question that he was of sound mind!’
‘Of course not!’ declared Great-aunt Minta with a snort. ‘Most idiotish thing I ever heard! Edmund was cantankerous, cross-grained, and obstinate as Satan, but queer in his attic he was not!’
The two men were still glaring at one another. Theo touched Benedict’s arm. He turned to look down at her, and when she shook her head, he shrugged, the fire dying out of his eyes, and flung himself into a chair. Beau continued to sip his drink.
‘Well, then, my lord …’ A note of relief crept into Mr Cartwright’s voice. ‘That concludes our business, I think.’
‘Not quite, Mr Cartwright.’
They all turned to look at Theo, who had pushed back her chair, and stood up, motioning them all to remain seated.
‘I have a small ceremony to perform. I think everyone here, with the exception perhaps of Aunt Minta, is aware that there has been a great deal of mystery and speculation recently concerning the existence and whereabouts of a certain diamond necklace.’
The atmosphere was again charged; Selina looked more animated than she had done throughout the whole proceedings so far.
‘My dear Theo … never tell us that you have found it?’
‘What necklace?’ demanded the old lady.
‘So the old man did have it all the time!’ said Benedict softly.
Only Beau did not speak.
Theo began to wish that she had chosen a less conspicious way of setting matters to rights, but having begun, she drew a deep breath and continued, explaining briefly for her great-aunt’s benefit the history of the necklace, and the Comte’s claim to it.
‘Well, bless me!’ she said. ‘Still, Edmund was ever close about his affairs!’
‘Mr Cartwright has been making enquiries about the present Comte de Varron, and he tells me that his agent has been able to find no evidence disproving his rights to the title … and therefore, to the necklace.’
Mr Cartwright nodded agreement.
Benedict was looking distinctly quizzical. ‘You didn’t answer Selina’s question, my dear coz, but may we assume that the said necklace is now in your possession?’
‘Grandpa left instructions with Gorton that he was to surrender it to me in the certainty that I would do with it what I thought right.’
‘There you are!’ crowed the old lady. ‘If that ain’t the act of a sane man …!’
‘So it seemed to me,’ Theo continued, speaking with more confidence now, ‘that as the Comte de Varron is at present in our midst ‒ indeed, he was so good as to attend the funeral this morning ‒ it would be appropriate if his property could be returned to him before he leaves for London.’
She walked across to the door. ‘I sent him a message asking him to call here at about three o’clock.’ She glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf, which was about to chime. ‘Purley?’ The butler was hovering in the hall, and Gorton stood close by in the shadows, holding the case. ‘Has the Comte de Varron arrived?’
‘He has, Miss Theo. I showed him into the small saloon as you said.’
‘Good. Then perhaps you would bring him along to the library now.’ She beckoned Gorton into the room with her. It was quite extraordinary, she thought, how all of a sudden she felt quite calm and in command of the situation.
When the Comte came in, he bowed over her hand with his usual gallantry, his lopsided smile very much in evidence.
‘What is all this about, mademoiselle?’ he murmured. ‘Vraiment! Such mystery! To be advised to make myself ready to return to town at once!’
‘You will see,’ she said and introduced him to Great-aunt Minta, who was charmed by him.
Theo took the case from Gorton and laid it on the table. ‘I asked you here, Monsieur le Comte, in order that I might return to you formally something which is rightfully the property of your family.’
A gleam of expectation dawned in his eyes.
As she released the catch, Selina rushed up to the table, eager for her first glimpse of the much-sought-after heirloom.
‘Oh lud!’ she breathed.
The Diamond Waterfall lay on a bed of black velvet, shimmering in the light ‒ swathe upon swathe of diamonds linked at intervals, and down the centre front, by pear-shaped stones of incredible size and brilliance.
‘Bless my soul!’ exclaimed the old lady, who had been slower to reach the table.
The Comte was silent for a moment, though his long fingers caressed the stones lovingly. ‘Dieu!’ he said at last. ‘I had no idea!’
‘It is quite exquisite, isn’t it?’ Theo said, still somewhat in awe of so much beauty.
Mr Cartwright, after his initial surprise, was arranging his papers swiftly but neatly into his case and snapping it shut as though he could not wait to be gone, and talking very earnestly to Benedict as he did so. Both Selina and Beau had excused themselves very quickly and left the room, and when the Comte expressed a desire to be on his way, Theo walked with him into the hall. As he waited for his tilbury to be brought round, he looked down at her, smiling and indicating the case which was held possessively close beneath his arm.
‘My dear Mademoiselle Théo, I do not know how I am ever to thank you.’
‘No thanks needed, monsieur,’ she said. ‘Once I knew where the necklace was, there was onl
y one thing to be done.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘It was fortunate that you happened to be so close at hand!’
‘Was it not?’ he agreed. ‘I will not deny that I hoped. But, sapristi! I had no idea that the prize was so great!’
‘I confess that I shall be happier when I know that you have got it safely to London, which is why I suggested that you be ready to leave immediately.’
‘But … there is no danger, surely? Who will know what I carry, after all?’
Beau knows, said her instincts ‒ just as they told her that Beau was behind that attempted burglary. Common sense persuaded Theo that he would not be so stupid as to try anything in this case, but she had seen his eyes when they had looked on the necklace; his mood was unpredictable, and she was uneasy.
She passed it off, however, by saying lightly, ‘No one will know if you go at once, but it is astonishing how quickly these things become public.’
‘Such a Miss Prudence!’ he murmured, kissing her hand and lingering over the salutation. ‘But I shall be guided by you.’ He sighed regretfully. ‘A pity we cannot pursue our acquaintance to a different conclusion! My Cascade Diamant is worthy of a more elegant neck than that of the “little pudding”, hein!’
‘But puddings are very necessary to fend off starvation,’ she said, dimpling. ‘I wish you bonne chance, Monsieur le Comte.’
He laughed and released her ‒ and looking past him, she saw Benedict coming from the direction of the library, his face set in something very like a scowl.
Then rushing feet sounded on the staircase and Selina appeared, a bandbox in each hand, her shawl slipping from her shoulders. She looked like a girl, eager and breathless.
‘Jules, oh Jules … I feared you might have gone! Please, oh, please, take me with you!’
The Comte looked at first taken aback and then amused.
‘As you wish, chérie,’ he said with a droll glance at Theo.
‘But Selina!’ Theo exclaimed. ‘What about Aubrey?’
She pouted prettily, but there was determination in the wide china-blue eyes. ‘My dear, you know that I am not really needed! Aubrey pays far more heed to you than he ever did to me, and one can see that he is stronger with every day that passes! I have asked him, and he does not mind, truly.’
‘Well then …’ Theo shrugged helplessly. ‘You will keep in touch, I suppose?’
Selina promised and was gone.
Benedict said curtly that Mr Cartwright was ready to leave, and Theo, her chin lifting slightly, walked past him back to the library. The lawyer assured her as he departed that he would be down again in a week or so, by which time it was his fervent hope that they would all have settled their differences.
Great-aunt Minta was established once more in her chair, looking rather confused by all that had gone on, and Theo sat with her for some time talking quietly until finally the old lady dozed off. Benedict did not come back when he had seen Mr Cartwright on his way, and she remained where she was, lulled by her great-aunt’s gentle snores, until Purley came to say she was wanted.
Beau stood in the hall looking the epitome of studied elegance in his caped coat, his face a mask of cool disdain as his valet assembled a steadily mounting pile of baggage around him.
‘I assume you will not object, Theodora, if I have your travelling coach put to.’ The emphasis laid on the possessive pronoun did not escape her. ‘I wish to go as far as Long Winton, where I have friends. From there I can travel post to London at my leisure.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Theo knew she was meant to feel uncomfortable, and bit her lip. ‘But this isn’t necessary, surely? You are very welcome to remain for as long …’
‘You are too kind, but I think not.’
His voice had a clipped finality, and she could not but be relieved that her gesture had been rejected.
She wandered upstairs to the drawing room and curled up on one of the sofas, trying to come to terms with the fact that this house was now hers, and that decisions would have to be made. But not now.
There was a sound at the door, and she looked up to see that Benedict had followed her.
‘An eventful afternoon,’ he said pleasantly, closing the door and coming towards her. ‘Your grandfather wasn’t alone in springing surprises! How long have you been keeping that particular one up your sleeve, I wonder?’
He was leaning over the back of the sofa now, so that she was obliged to screw her neck round in order to see him. He was at his most sardonic, and she ‒ feeling both guilty and aggrieved on top of everything else ‒ was not disposed to humour him.
‘Nothing like so long, I fancy, as you have known about that ridiculous clause in Grandpa’s Will,’ she retorted.
Benedict’s eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. ‘About us marrying? But I thought we both knew that his mind was travelling that particular road. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it at times! Though I confess I could wish he hadn’t voiced his expectations quite so blatantly on this occasion.’
Theo looked away quickly, putting up a hand to ease the crick in her neck, and very much aware that he was still regarding her with some intentness.
‘You don’t think the word “ridiculous” a little excessive?’ he said persuasively.
‘You know perfectly well what I mean!’
He had moved closer. ‘Do I? You have something against the married state, perhaps? Or maybe you have accepted Alverton’s proposal and omitted to tell me?’
‘No!’ His breath was warm against her cheek, and she was in serious danger of being unable to think straight. She evaded him and jumped to her feet, moving away out of reach, and was provoked beyond measure when he made no immediate move to come after her.
She picked up a small porcelain swan from the near-by table and absently stroked its head with one finger. ‘I have been wondering,’ she said a little unsteadily, ‘whether I ought not to consider Grandpa’s alternative ‒ you know, about my going back home, and the house and estate being sold and divided.’
‘How interesting,’ he drawled. ‘And what conclusion have you reached?’
‘Well, I hadn’t really got very far. But it does seem very unfair to both you and Beau …’ She was floundering. ‘I mean, I don’t know exactly how much the place would realise …’
‘Something in excess of three hundred thousand pounds, at a rough guess,’ he supplied helpfully.
‘Oh, glory!’ she stared down in blank dismay at the little swan, whose neck she had snapped in two, conscious only of the shock of his revelation. ‘You must be mistaken!’
He came across, took the poor decapitated creature from her nerveless fingers, and laid the pieces on the table.
‘Was it valuable, do you suppose?’ she said, distressed to see what she had done.
‘I haven’t the slightest idea, but it’s yours now, anyway ‒ or had you forgot?’
‘No, indeed, how could I?’ She put up her hands to cover her flushed cheeks, her mind working furiously. If he was right … ‘That settles the matter, then. Shallowford will have to be sold! I couldn’t possibly … that is, no wonder Beau was so incensed!’
‘The devil with Beau!’ he said. ‘Do you want to sell it?’
‘It isn’t a question any longer of what I want ‒ it’s more a matter of what is right, and it can’t be right for me to have all that while you and Beau …’ Theo turned to pace the floor and found him blocking her way. Instinctively she took a step back. ‘It isn’t even as though I need a home ‒ I have a perfectly good one in Philadelphia.’
He was smiling, and she couldn’t for the life of her tell why.
‘Very well,’ he said equably. ‘If you are so set on Shallowford being sold, I shall buy it.’
‘You!’ She almost squeaked the word.
‘Well, it would be a pity if it went out of the family, don’t you think? And there is Aunt Minta to be considered.’
‘Oh, dear, I had quite forgotten her!’ If only he wouldn’t stand so close. She was trapped between the
table and the sofa, and there was no way of escape without an ignominious loss of dignity. She fixed her gaze resolutely on one of his coat buttons. It was mother-of-pearl and had a particularly luminous sheen. ‘But you couldn’t afford …’ She stopped suddenly, realising with a jolt how very little she really knew about his years in India. She had simply assumed that he had frittered them away. She lifted her head and looked him full in the eye, ‘Could you?’ she demanded, her spirits soaring to think that he did not need her money after all.
‘Well,’ he mused, ‘I won’t pretend that I am able to find such a sizeable amount tomorrow, but with a little judicious juggling of funds, I foresee no insuperable difficulty. And in any case, nothing could be done immediately, you know. The Will has yet to be proved, and there are all the legal niceties which one must observe. But a few weeks should suffice to clear everything up.’
Theo waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. She knew that she ought to have felt relieved that the house would stay in the family, but all she was conscious of was a great hollow void of disappointment and loss that brought an unpleasant constriction to her throat and a prickling behind her eyes, and made it incredibly difficult for her to say brightly, ‘Then I shall be back in Philadelphia before the winter.’
Benedict uttered a little exclamation at this, and a moment later she was being gathered close.
‘No, you won’t, my idiotish, darling girl! You will stay here and marry me ‒ and there will be no more nonsense about selling up and going to Philadelphia!’
From the depths of his coat Theo said unsteadily, ‘Such a charming proposal! How could any girl refuse it!’
He put a hand almost roughly under her chin and forced her head up. Her face was wet with tears, and he exclaimed and kissed them away, and then his mouth was sweet on hers and she melted into his embrace.