A Gentleman Always Remembers

by Candace Camp

  Cosmo Glass’s eyes were wide and round, and his skin had turned a chalky color. “I—I don’t know her name.”

  “Whose name?” Fitz asked.

  “Her?” Eve and the girls chorused in surprise.

  “Aye. The lady that hired me. She—her—it was her maid most of the time. She’d come and tell me what to do and give me my payment. A sharp-tongued witch, that one, I’ll tell you. But once, the first time, she took me to meet the lady. The lady said she’d seen me trying to get into the house to see Mary on her wedding day. She understood, she said, when I told her about how they’d turned me away, and me just wanting to see my little girl one last time. She told me where there was a shepherd’s hut on their land, see, and I could stay there. She give me food and drink, and all I had to do was wait for her to tell me what to do. Then she’d send the maid, and she told me where to go and what to do. But she didn’t pay me last time ’cause she said I hadn’t got the watch. Well, how was I to know the place’d be so full of people when you lot had gone out riding?” Cosmo looked highly aggrieved.

  “Never mind that,” Fitz told him impatiently. “What about this lady? What did she look like? Where did she live?”

  Eve suspected she already knew the answer, but she held her breath anyway as Cosmo Glass continued, “A blond lady, like this one here.” He pointed toward Eve. “Real pretty and full of fine airs, but her eyes are cold, and that’s the truth. She lives in that other big house over there.”

  “Sabrina.” The word came out of Eve on a sigh. “My God, it actually was Sabrina.”

  Half an hour later Eve and Fitz left for Halstead House. It had taken all of Fitz’s powers of persuasion to persuade Lily and Camellia to stay behind, but eventually, with Neville’s help, the sisters had agreed to go upstairs and carry on as if nothing had happened. Then Fitz had rung for Bostwick and instructed him to take a couple of footmen and lock Cosmo Glass in the cellars.

  “Not with the wine,” he had cautioned.

  Bostwick, giving no indication that bound men needing to be put into Willowmere’s cellars didn’t turn up every day, had simply nodded and led Glass from the room.

  “What are you going to do with him?” Eve asked Fitz later as they waited for the carriage to be brought around.

  “I doubt I’ll toss him into the tarn. Though it is a tempting thought. I shall leave it to Oliver, who will likely wind up putting the villain on a ship back to the United States. The man’s right; no one wants him hanging about, telling people he’s the Bascombes’ stepfather—whether in gaol or out. But a few days in the cellar should keep him from deciding to return here. I may give him a demonstration of my marksmanship while he’s down there.”

  “You aren’t going to shoot an apple off his head, are you?”

  “Good Lord, what a bloodthirsty wench you are! You have been around Camellia too long. No, I was thinking more along the lines of snuffing out a candle with a single shot. That’s usually impressive.”

  They spent most of the drive over to Lord Humphrey’s estate in a fruitless discussion of the reasons behind Sabrina’s hiring Cosmo Glass to steal the watch.

  “I understand that she saw him the night of the wedding and seized on him as a handy tool, someone no one would know or connect to her,” Eve mused. “But why would she want that watch? And why would she write the letters? How could she even know Bruce had it?”

  Fitz shook his head. “I’ve no idea. I’m beginning to think she must be mad as a March hare. I disliked her because of what she did to Royce, of course, but I’ve always thought her cold and calculating in everything she did. Not insane. But this . . . well, we’ll see what she says.”

  As it turned out, they would not. The butler was quick to show them into the drawing room, but he told them in a hushed tone that her ladyship was still suffering from her recent illness and could not leave her bed. He left them in the drawing room, and a few moments later Vivian swept into the room. She looked a trifle tired, but she smiled broadly and held out her hands to greet them.

  “Eve! Fitz! I am so happy to see you. It’s been an age.” She sat down in the chair at right angles to the sofa where Eve and Fitz were seated. “It is so odd that we have had to communicate by notes when we are only minutes apart. I have so wanted to visit, but I have been a trifle busy.” She made a droll expression. “I know you have been too. How is Camellia?”

  “She is quite well, thank you. In fact, today she got dressed and came downstairs,” Eve told her. “But the truth is, Vivian, it is Lady Sabrina we came to see.”

  Vivian’s brows rose in surprise. “I thought old Chumwick said that, but I assumed he was confused.”

  “No, we really must speak to her.”

  “But she’s still sick. She really has had quite a bout of it. She’s still in bed and not up to seeing anyone.”

  “Really?” Fitz asked. “If she is so ill, how is she sending Eve threatening letters?”

  Vivian stared at him. “I beg your pardon? Letters?”

  “Yes. These.” Fitz reached inside his jacket and pulled out the letters, handing them to Vivian.

  Vivian glanced at Eve, puzzled, but took the letters and began to read. Her eyebrows soared expressively, and she glanced up from time to time as she read, but she finished reading all of them before she spoke.

  “I don’t understand.” She looked from Fitz to Eve. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I would have, but at first I dismissed it, and then everyone got sick, and I couldn’t come see you. It was far too bizarre to put in a note.”

  “But why would anyone make such accusations? Why do you think it’s Sabrina? I know she can be wicked, but what could be her reason for spreading these lies about Bruce? And why would she want your watch? Is it so special?”

  “I cannot tell it if it is.” Eve pulled the timepiece out of her pocket and held it out to Vivian.

  “It’s pretty, but . . .” Vivian glanced at Eve. “It doesn’t seem Sabrina’s style.”

  “It’s old-fashioned,” Eve agreed. “I cannot imagine why Sabrina would want it.” She explained to her friend the circumstances under which she had found the watch after her husband’s death.

  Vivian turned the watch over thoughtfully, even opening it and reading the inscription inside. “It looks faintly familiar.” She frowned, then shrugged. “I suppose I must have seen you wear it. But I still don’t understand why you think Sabrina had something to do with these letters. She can be vicious enough to write them, I agree, but really, I don’t think this is her handwriting. It looks more like a man’s, does it not?”

  “We think it’s Sabrina because we sprang a trap on the fellow who came to pick up the watch today. But he was clearly a tool. He told us that Sabrina hired him to do it. He did not know her name, but he said it was a fair-haired pretty woman who lives in a large house, and I cannot imagine who else that might be.”

  “This is so incredible. I would have sworn that Sabrina was too ill to have been up to anything. She’s still abed, and as far as I know she has not stirred from it. Nor has she allowed anyone in except me and her maid. She doesn’t want anyone to see her with spots all over her face.”

  “The man we captured said that he dealt with her maid,” Fitz pointed out. “She could have given the woman instructions, and the maid took them to him.”

  “The first letter actually came before anyone got sick. You can see that the lettering is different. Perhaps Sabrina wrote that and the others have been what she told someone to write.”

  There was the sound of footsteps in the hall, and a moment later Colonel Willingham appeared in the doorway. He smiled and advanced into the room.

  “My dear Mrs. Hawthorne. Such a pleasant surprise. And Mr. Talbot.” He sketched a bow to Eve and shook Fitz’s hand before he took a seat.

  Fitz’s face turned decidedly less friendly, but he greeted the other man politely. It was Eve who did not return his greeting. She could not help but remember the fact that Colonel Willi
ngham had been willing to believe the worst about Bruce, when both Vivian and Fitz had assumed that Bruce was innocent. No, she decided, not willing—he had actually confirmed what the letter said. A worm of suspicion twisted through her.

  “I trust everything is well at Willowmere,” the colonel went on politely.

  “No,” Eve responded, her voice so flat and cold that both Vivian and Fitz glanced at her in surprise. “I received another letter.”

  “What?” Willingham looked startled. “No, how awful for you. Would you like for me to look at it?”

  “Do you need to?” Eve shot back.

  Vivian’s eyes widened, and Eve felt Fitz tense beside her.

  “I’m sorry?” The colonel gazed at Eve with a faintly puzzled expression.

  “The letter demanded the watch,” Eve went on. “I gave it up, but Fitz captured the fellow who came to pick it up.”

  Colonel Willingham glanced at Fitz, then back at Eve. “Really? But that’s excellent news, isn’t it? So you’ve tossed the miscreant in gaol, I take it.”

  “No. Actually he’s at Willowmere right now.” Fitz stared straight at the colonel, his eyes like chips of ice. “He’s already told us that Sabrina was behind the scheme. I imagine he’ll tell us more before we release him.”

  “Sabrina?” Colonel Willingham look astounded. “Come, come, man, this chap must be selling you a bag of moonshine. Lady Sabrina has been sick in bed these last two weeks, hasn’t she, Lady Vivian?”

  “Why would the fellow lie?” Fitz countered. “How would he even know who she was?”

  The colonel shrugged. “Who knows how criminals think? Perhaps he wanted to spread lies about Lady Sabrina just as he did about Major Hawthorne.”

  “If they were lies, why did you tell me that they were the truth?” Eve sprang to her feet. Her anger seemed to add inches to her height, and her eyes blazed down at her husband’s superior officer. “You told me those things were true. You said that Bruce had been stealing.”

  “I said I had heard rumors.” The colonel stood up too, holding out a placating hand to Eve.

  “When I told Fitz, when I told Vivian just now, they did not believe it of Bruce, yet you, who were closer to him than either of them, who knew him better than almost anyone—you believed the lies! You repeated the lies to me! How could you have heard those rumors if Sabrina made them up?”

  “What are you saying?” Willingham stared at her, aghast.

  “The writing looks like a man’s hand,” Fitz put in quietly. He had risen too and moved a step closer to the colonel.

  “You lied to me, didn’t you?” Eve pressed. “You tried to make me believe that Bruce had stolen that watch. That he was a thief and a coward. That he took his own life! Why?”

  “It was for your own good, Eve. I swear to you,” the colonel burst out. “Please believe me. I hated lying to you; it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I could not bear for you to learn the truth about Bruce.”

  “You lied to protect me?” Eve’s tone was drenched with scorn. “Why? What was the truth? What was so terrible that it was better to pretend that my husband was a thief?”

  Willingham sighed. He looked around, then turned back to Eve, his face grave. “My dear, it grieves me greatly to tell you that the watch that you believe your husband gave you actually belongs to Lady Sabrina. It was a present to her from her husband, Lord Humphrey. She bestowed it on her lover as a token of her affection for him. That lover was Major Hawthorne.”

  For an instant the room was utterly silent. Then Eve stepped forward, and her hand lashed out, slapping the colonel full across the cheek. “You liar!”

  Willingham’s face surged with color, and he drew back his hand. Fitz stepped quickly between him and Eve and planted his fist in the colonel’s jaw. Willingham stumbled backward and went down with a crash. Fitz stood over him, fists clenched and raised.

  Colonel Willingham shook his head. “No. I don’t intend to fight you. You were right to hit me.” He stood up slowly and turned toward Eve. “I apologize, my dear. I would never have struck you, of course; it was simply an instinctive reaction to being called a liar. But I should not have even raised my hand. I know how hard it must be to find out about your husband. I am sure he loved you very much, but Lady Sabrina is a . . . very persuasive woman.”

  “I am sure she is. Obviously she persuaded you into a great deal. I know for a fact that you are lying. My husband had no affair with her or anyone. It was you, wasn’t it? This whole story of the affair and the watch—it was you who had the affair with your good friend’s wife! It was you to whom she gave the watch. That first note with the printing, that was probably Sabrina’s doing, trying to disguise her hand. But she sent a message to you too, didn’t she? Telling you that she had seen me wearing the watch she had given you. She probably even demanded to know how in the world I had wound up with it. Then you came pounding up here, ostensibly to drop by to see your old friend, but in reality to help her get the watch back. You must have written the other letters, and then you dropped by in the hopes that I would pour out my story to you and you could encourage me to believe that Bruce had stolen the watch. No doubt you were sure I would crumble and hand the watch over to you. So sure you did not even bother to disguise your handwriting.”

  The colonel stood, nostrils flaring, color rising, as Eve’s accusations hit him, one right after the other. Finally he roared, “Yes! The devil take it, yes! I lost the watch to Bruce in a card game. I had run out of cash, and I used it as surety. I was going to redeem it the next day, but then Bruce died in that riding accident. I let the matter drop; I thought nothing would ever come of it. Then you turn up here, of all places, wearing it.” He drew in a long breath and released it. His voice was calmer as he went on, “I am not proud of what I did, and I am most sorry for causing you any upset or hurt. But you must see that I could not let you continue to go about wearing that watch. If Humphrey had caught sight of it—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Eve asked. “Why go to such extremes? Surely telling me the truth would cause less scandal than this.”

  “I wanted to. I told her there was no need for the letters. I believed you wouldn’t betray us, but Sabrina was convinced that if you knew you would tell Lady Vivian, and Lady Vivian would be all too happy to have a weapon to use against her.”

  “If that isn’t just like her!” Vivian snapped. “As if I would ever do anything that would hurt Uncle Humphrey!”

  “What’s this?” came a jovial voice from the doorway. “Do I hear my name being bandied about?”

  They all turned, struck silent. Lord Humphrey stood in the doorway, smiling benignly at them. He came forward, gesturing at them to sit.

  “Why are we all standing about? Sit, sit. It’s so nice to have company. It has been far too long. Dreadful business, this illness. Poor Sabrina is still laid up with it.” He shook Fitz’s hand and came forward to take Eve’s. He stopped, staring at the watch in her hand. “My goodness! What is this? You’ve found it?”

  “Umm.” Eve glanced frantically at Vivian, then at Fitz.

  “What a stroke of luck,” Lord Humphrey went on, beaming. He reached out his hand to the watch. “May I?” At Eve’s silent nod, he took it from her palm and held it up to examine. “Oh yes, this is definitely Amabel’s watch.”

  “That’s why it looked familiar!” Vivian exclaimed. “Aunt Amabel used to wear it all the time!”

  “Yes she did. She loved it.” The old man smiled in reminiscence. “Unfortunately it was in among all the family jewels, and Sabrina lost it a few years ago. She was so upset; she will be quite glad to see that you have recovered it. Where did you find it?” Without waiting for a reply he went on happily, opening up the watch. “Yes, you see? There is the inscription I had put in it: ‘For my beloved wife.’ And inside there is a lock of hair too. In the secret compartment.”

  Much to Eve’s astonishment, Humphrey slipped his thumbnail into a crack in the back of the watch, a crack so s
mall that she had never even noticed it, and he prised up the smooth golden plate on which the inscription was written. A wisp of brown hair lay inside the secret compartment, but on top of it was a tiny square of paper, folded many times. When the false back sprang open, the square popped out, falling to the floor.

  The colonel, who had been watching the old man intently, sprang forward, but Fitz blocked his way, and Eve reached down to scoop up the paper.

  “Why, what is that?” Humphrey asked, looking puzzled. “There wasn’t any paper in there.”

  “It’s a letter,” Eve said, smoothing out the paper and quickly running her eyes over the faded ink. “A letter written, I might add, in a very similar hand to the one on those letters you’re holding, Vivian.”

  Lord Humphrey remained confused, but Fitz and Vivian both looked at Colonel Willingham.

  “What does it say?” Humphrey asked. “Who put it in there?”

  “I think perhaps my late husband put it there,” Eve said quietly. “It appears to be a confession, written and signed by Colonel Willingham and dated two days before my husband’s death.”

  “A confession! To what? Why is it in the watch?”

  “Colonel Willingham states that he stole a large number of things over the years in order to finance his lifestyle, which was a good bit above his means,” Eve said. “He also confesses to cheating at cards and embezzling funds from the army. Rather a lot of offenses, really.”

  “My God!” Lord Humphrey stared at his friend in shock. “Robert! Is this true?”

  “Yes!” The colonel roared. “Yes! That damnable honor of Hawthorne’s! I knew the man would be the end of me.” He sank into the nearest chair, a perfect image of dejection. “He knew the watch wasn’t mine; it’s obviously a woman’s. And he’d caught me cheating as well. He had already been suspicious about the other things—the disappearance of the regiment’s funds, the way things seemed to go missing among my friends. He even guessed about my aff—” He stopped abruptly as Fitz’s hand descended on his shoulder. He glanced up at him, then over at Lord Humphrey. His eyes dropped again.