Above Rubies

by Mary Cummins

  Merry’s face had gone very pale. So these people had actually had her investigated? Sudden distaste for everything to do with Kilpatricks filled her, and she wanted to leave the house right away, and never come back. Benjamin had been so right. She should never have taken anything to do with checking their stock, only she had been too stupid to see where the danger lay. If only he had been here, his very presence would have been a source of strength to her, but now there was only Sylvia, and even she felt suddenly dear to her, part of something familiar instead of this strange frightening world into which she was peeping.

  “Sylvia, my dear, you came off the floor wearing the ring?” Nigel was asking quietly, and she nodded, her eyes enormous.

  “Yes,” she croaked.

  “Now think carefully. You see, dear, this is such an unusual ring. We couldn’t ever replace it, because a stone of that large size and purity doesn’t turn up every day.”

  “But wasn’t it insured?” asked Sylvia, a sudden air of shrewdness in her manner. “Surely, if it’s lost, you can get the value of it.”

  “Only if we can prove there was absolutely no negligence,” said Nigel quietly, “and somehow we’ve slipped up here. Someone, unnoticed, has been around ... some thief ... ready to seize their chance. Only one of us must have noticed, even if we’ve forgotten, and somehow we must bring it to mind. We’ll have to inform the police, but I’ve persuaded the others to wait a day, in case we can fathom out where it has gone. We only want the publicity of the police as a last resort.”

  “The police?” whispered Sylvia, and Merry, too, felt her face go pale at the thought of being involved in the disappearance of the ring. She did check it. She remembered Sylvia handing it to her and the feel of the blue ring case in her hand. She had given it to Nigel after marking it off.

  “I don’t think anyone else was there,” she said slowly.

  “We don’t want to suspect ... anyone,” said Stephanie gruffly. “But we might be forced to, if it doesn’t turn up.”

  “But there’s only ... us,” said Merry slowly, and her remark trailed into uneasy silence. Surely they couldn’t suspect ... her? She felt panic rising inside her, and had to force herself to sit quietly, and see things from the Kilpatricks’ point of view. They had lost a unique and valuable ring, and could be forgiven for starting to look around at suspects. And it was she who had been checking! Oh, why hadn’t she listened to Benjamin?

  “We shouldn’t have given Merry the responsibility,” said Nigel heavily. “Stephanie is right, in part. We shouldn’t have asked Merry to take on such a job.”

  Again the remark fell into silence, and Merry thought, rather bitterly, that she’d have preferred to hear him proclaim her innocence, instead of reproaching himself for giving her the responsibility.

  “Go over every minute again,” said David Bruce almost desperately. “Sylvia, you are walking off the floor.”

  She nodded.

  “What did you do then?”

  “I ... I was wearing the ring on my left hand,” she said huskily. “I took it off with my right. The blue case was on the table, and I put it in. I told Merry how much I ... I loved and admired it, then I gave it to her, and she marked it off.”

  “That right, Merry?”

  She nodded, feeling as though her body suddenly didn’t belong to her. That was right. That was how it had happened. And she gave it to Nigel, who put it into the fitted case, and locked the lid. Nigel was the only one with the keys ... but Nigel wouldn’t steal his own ring.

  That left her ... left her ... She lifted her hand to her head, feeling as though the walls were screaming at her.

  “I don’t know how it can be missing,” she cried wildly. “You must know I didn’t steal it. I admired it ... we all did ... but I’d be mad if I’d tried to steal it, because ... because ... I couldn’t do such a thing. I’d hate it always ... afterwards. Don’t you see?”

  “Of course you wouldn’t take it, darling,” Sylvia said soothingly. “It must just ... have ... gone missing somehow?”

  “Where did the case go after you left the Royal, Nigel?” asked Merry.

  “It’s no good,” said Nigel heavily. “It went straight into our safe and Father and I have half the combination each. No one touched it till we opened it this morning and found the blue ring box empty.”

  He looked at Merry’s face which was almost transparent with the upset.

  “I’d better take the girls home,” he said heavily. "If ... if you can think of anything, anything at all, come and see me. We call the police in at noon tomorrow.”

  Merry nodded, and almost ran out into the fresh air, breathing deeply. All three drove home to Beau Ness in silence, where they found the parcel post van standing at the door, and Mrs. Cameron signing for a parcel.

  “It’s for you, Miss Merry,” she said, handing it over, as Merry and Sylvia walked in the door. Merry nodded, this time feeling the tears well up in her eyes. It was easy to recognise the returned manuscript of her book.

  The rest of the day was the longest Merry had ever known. Sylvia had been very restless, too, and after prowling up and down the house for a while, and going to annoy Mrs. Cameron in the kitchen, she flung herself on to the settee.

  “I think I’ll go home, Merry,” she said sulkily. “Everything seems to be getting in a mess here, and I’m fed up. Nigel hardly bothered with me today and Benjie is away, and I’d like to see the gang again.”

  For a moment Merry felt a treacherous lightening of spirit as she began to imagine the house without Sylvia, then remembered that her peace was shattered in any case now. Besides, with the loss of the topaz ring hanging over their heads, and the police due to be informed, it was hardly a wise time for Sylvia to leave.

  “I doubt if you can, Sylvia,” she said wearily. “I mean, if Nigel tells the police, they’ll be bound to want to question you...”

  “I haven’t done anything!” screeched Sylvia. “Why should they bother with me?”

  “You’ve handled the ring, of course,” said Merry evenly. “They have to question everyone connected with the exhibition in a case like this.”

  “But I gave it to you!” cried Sylvia. “You know I did!”

  “I know,” Merry replied patiently. “You’ll still have to tell the police that.”

  Sylvia sulkily picked at her nails.

  “I wish I’d never gone to the wretched exhibition,” she said, almost passionately. “Mummy will be livid if she hears about the police. So will Daddy. He might even...”

  “Even what ... blame me?”

  “I was going to say that he might even cut off my whole allowance,” snapped Sylvia, and Merry wondered by how much she had got into debt before seeking refuge in Beau Ness. Merry knew that her home had only been used as a refuge by her cousin, until Nigel started taking an interest in her. Would he still be interested in Sylvia, she wondered, or would all this upset make any difference?

  Besides, what could have happened to the ring? Could there be two small blue leather boxes? Was it possible the ring was in another one? Merry’s eyes grew round with thought, then clouded again as she remembered that the whole of the black fitted case had been taken out and examined. If there had been two such boxes, Nigel would know, and would have examined the other one.

  Yet it was unthinkable that any of them could be a thief, Merry was sure of that. Somehow ... somehow that ring had gone missing accidentally, if she could only think when, how and where.

  Mrs. Cameron was ill pleased at their small appetites for tea. Merry had told her, briefly, about the ring, and she shook her head uncomprehendingly.

  “You shouldn’t be worrying your heid ower it, Miss Merry,” she pronounced. “Eating like a wee sparrow won’t bring a ring back. It’ll turn up, never you fear. From what you say, it would be a daft-like thing to steal it, for everybody would ken it in any case, and the thief could neither wear nor sell it.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Merry, brightening. “It must turn
up somehow, Mrs. Cameron. If only it could be soon!”

  Both girls went to bed early, but Merry lay tossing and turning, her mind too busy for sleep. She went over the events of the previous evening till her head ached, but had no recollection of anyone else being close by them.

  Finally she got up and padded to the bathroom for aspirins, seeing a light under Sylvia’s door as she returned to her own room.

  “Poor Sylvia,” she thought with sudden sympathy. It had upset her cousin, too, and perhaps even more so, if she was beginning to care for Nigel. She heard small sounds of drawers being pulled open, and paused on her foot. Surely Sylvia wouldn’t be mad enough to be packing so that she could sneak away. It would be just like her to do that!

  Resolutely Merry went to her cousin’s door, and tapped firmly.

  “Sylvia,” she said, opening the door, then stopped with bewilderment at the state of the room. Sylvia was, indeed, packing for a quick removal. As Merry opened the door, she whirled round guiltily with a quick surge of breath, her hand to her mouth.

  Merry stared at the hand unbelievingly, at the pink topaz ring which was winking back at her.

  “Sylvia!” she whispered. “For heaven’s sake! You’ve got it!”

  Her cousin tore off the ring and threw it on the dressing table, then dropped on to the bed, her face white as a sheet.

  “What if I have?” she cried defiantly.

  “But why ... how...?” Merry’s brain seemed to be alternately racing and clouding.

  “Easy,” said her cousin. “I had it in the box to let you see, then slipped it out again while you bent to mark it off. It was in the palm of my hand, till I could pop it into my bag.”

  “You must be mad!” cried Merry. “Stark staring mad!”

  Sylvia began to sob.

  “Well, it’s my ring,” she cried childishly, “and no one would buy it for me. It’s no use asking Daddy, and when Nigel talked about us getting engaged, he thought I was joking. He ... he even said he ... he thought we ought to think a bit longer about marriage, that I was obviously too young! He was backing out, Merry, and from a girl who could have married anybody.”

  Merry watched her with fascination, then all the fight and spirit seemed to drain out of her.

  “I was mad,” Sylvia said quietly. “I know it now ... completely mad. I couldn’t resist it. It was as though the ring was part of me, and I couldn’t give it up. Oh, Merry, what shall I do?”

  “Take it back,” she said firmly. “Own up and make a clean breast of it. They won’t tell the police, I’m sure, so long as you give it back first thing in the morning.”

  Sylvia was silent, then she turned huge tragic eyes to Merry.

  “How can I?” she asked brokenly. “There’s something you don’t know. I’m in love with Nigel ... really in love. I knew it today for the first time when I realised I’d lost him. Oh, Merry, there might have been a chance for me, and I’d do my best to make him happy. Honestly. I feel ... different ... now, as though I’ve grown up all of a sudden. I feel ashamed of the girl I was. Merry, couldn’t you take it back? Say you’ve found it caught on your dress or something? They couldn’t prove anything against you, and it won’t matter to you since you don’t love Nigel...”

  “I couldn’t!” cried Merry, horrified. “They’d never believe me. They’d think I’d stolen it.”

  “They wouldn’t,” insisted Sylvia. “They know you too well. Oh, Merry, if I can’t have a second chance, I think I’ll die.”

  Sylvia broke into a storm of weeping which shook her whole body, and Merry stood hesitating, the ring in her hand, her body shivering again as it did when she handled the topaz. For her, all its beauty had gone, and she only wanted it out of her home. She had always felt odd about it, and now she knew why. She looked at Sylvia tiredly, no longer feeling able to cope.

  “All right,” she agreed, “but on one condition. You must leave my house. If Nigel wants you, he can follow you home to Carlisle. I don’t think you can remain here, with this between us, and I’d rather that Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle George were responsible for you.”

  “All right,” agreed Sylvia. “I was going anyway. I’m tired of it all.”

  Next morning Merry walked over to Rossie House, feeling as though she was wading through the ocean. Her face was deathly pale and set when she was shown into the study where Mr. Kilpatrick was working on his own.

  “Here is the ring, Mr. Kilpatrick,” said Merry,, without preamble, and tried to tell him she had found it by accident, only the words stuck in her throat.

  “I ... I can’t explain how I found it,” she said quietly, and watched him pick it up for examination.

  “Yes, it’s our ring,” he said at length. “But I think I’m entitled to the fullest explanation ... where it was found, how it came to be missing. Come ... ah, Merry, perhaps you would be good enough to explain. Otherwise,” he added, as she stood tongue-tied, “Otherwise I shall be forced to put the worst possible conclusions on the circumstances.”

  “Will ... will you inform the police?” she asked, with apprehension. If so, she might be forced to tell them about Sylvia, and if she did, would they believe her now?

  He regarded her searchingly, his eyes beginning to glint.

  “No, I shan’t inform them, but only because you’ve been a guest in my house and come from a fine family. I know your Aunt Ellen, and your father ... well, I’m sorry we won’t be able to entertain you again. This house is full of temptation to young ladies who can’t resist the lure and sparkle of precious stones. I blame myself for not realising how strong such temptation can be.”

  Merry wanted to cry at the sudden softening and kindliness of his voice. Her knees were trembling and she felt strangely sick.

  “You may go home now,” he said gently. “If you don’t wish to meet my son and daughter, you’d better go now. It might be embarrassing for all of you.”

  Merry nodded and stumbled from the room. She almost ran home, feeling again the emptiness of the Cot House as she raced past. If only Benjamin had been home. He’d never have believed her a thief, she was sure. She wanted him and needed him, but he wasn’t there. Then she remembered that she had no claim at all on his time, and felt more lonely than she had ever done in her life as she walked into Beau Ness.

  “That Miss Sylvia is away, bag and baggage,” Mrs. Cameron told her angrily, as she walked into the kitchen. “Trust her to hang on here, then run away at the sight of unpleasantness! She’s a selfish young madam!”

  Merry nodded wearily.

  “I knew she was going, Mrs. Cameron, but I forgot to tell you. You’ll be glad to know the ring has been found now.”

  Mrs. Cameron’s face relaxed into a beaming smile.

  “Och, didn’t I say so all along?” she asked, delightedly. “Was it just mislaid?”

  “Something like that,” Merry told her evasively.

  “A big fuss about naethin’! Och, Miss Merry, you’re no looking like yourself today. If you ask me, you’ve never quite got over that ’flu. Though maybe I can guess what’s wrong.” Merry held her breath.

  “It’s yer wee book,” continued Mrs. Cameron. “Och, ye’re bound to be disappointed, but don’t let it get you down. Miss Ellen often had setbacks, but she took them in her stride. Ye’ll have to start another book as soon as you can, and learn from past mistakes. Now come on and take this hot drink. I’ll be able to feed you up now that fussy madam is away.”

  Merry felt comforted. Mrs. Cameron often talked good horse sense.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE following morning Merry got up, heavy-eyed through lack of sleep. The house felt calm and peaceful without Sylvia and Mrs. Cameron was singing softly in the kitchen, but Merry felt tired and depressed. The full realisation of the fact that the Kilpatricks thought her a thief was beginning to dawn on her, and her whole being cried out in protest. She felt unclean, and wanted to run all the way to Rossie House and deny the fact that they thought her guilty of stealing. Yet she would
have to tell the truth about Sylvia, and would they believe her? Even if they did, Sylvia was still a member of her family, and it would make little difference to her future relationship with them. There could still be nothing between her and the Kilpatricks.

  Wearily she picked up her returned book manuscript, and began to undo the paper. Perhaps the publishers had given a reason for its return, and it would be helpful to know where her fault lay.

  The letter was a long one, giving quite a lot of praise, but pointing out quite a bit of her plot construction which was faulty, and suggesting alterations.

  “If those passages could be altered in the way we suggest,” the letter concluded, “we would be happy to consider the book again.”

  Merry read and re-read the last paragraph, her heart beating excitedly and her depression lifting miraculously, then carefully she read the whole letter again, referring repeatedly to her manuscript. Of course, she could see now where she had gone wrong, and how much better the book would be with the suggested alterations.

  Energy and enthusiasm pulsed through her, and she ran to find Mrs. Cameron.

  “Yer breakfast’s just ready now, Miss Merry,” said Mrs. Cameron, fussing over her like a mother hen.

  “Oh, not very much this morning,” Merry told her hurriedly. “I’ve got heaps of work to do, and I want to get it done quickly.”

  “Ye’ll do it all the better on a good full stomach,” the older woman said firmly. “After that, I’ll see ye’re not disturbed. It’s fine to see a bit of life in ye again, if I might say so.”