by Joan Smith
"Her papa was a nabob. I believe these went to India via the Gulf of Persia."
"There is a tint almost of pink to them. If you ever want to sell this, I would be interested in purchasing it."
"I do not plan to frequent the gaming hells, so it should not be necessary for me to sell it."
"May I ask you a personal question?” I nodded and he said, “How did you come to hawk your chipped diamond ring?"
"It was Lord Hutching's satinwood commode that caused it. I paid cash, forgetting that my bank account was low. It was only for a few days, till some bonds came due."
He shook his head at such an unbusinesslike way of carrying on. We examined some of the other pieces. Our hands brushed from time to time, but true to his word, Dalton did not take advantage of the intimacy to misbehave. He suggested that we make an inventory of the merchandise.
"I trust you, Mr. Dalton,” I said. I did not add that I had a good memory for what was in the box.
"Perhaps you are too trusting, Miss Denver,” he murmured, gazing at me bemusedly. The air began to crackle.
Before more could be said, the door opened and Hennie came barging in, alone. Lord Brockley had left her at the door.
"Eve, what are you doing alone with a man at this hour of the night!” was her greeting. Then her beady little eyes spotted the jewel box. “What is that doing down here?” she inquired, in a tone of lively suspicion.
"Mr. Dalton is going to take it for safekeeping. He has a safe in his house."
Next she spotted the wineglasses, and her breathing became noticeably labored. “I would like to have a word with you when Mr. Dalton leaves,” she said. Her tone suggested that he would be wise not to linger.
I noticed him chewing back a smile, and was relieved he had not taken offense. He rose at once to take his leave. “We shall be in touch tomorrow, Miss Denver. Good evening, ladies.” He made an exquisite bow, and left.
"I think you have lost your wits, entertaining a gentleman alone at such an hour!” Hennie exclaimed.
"And who, may I inquire, was playing propriety with you and Lord Brockley until one-thirty in the morning?"
"I am an old lady, well past such things."
"What things, Hennie?” I teased. “Mr. Dalton came to pick up my jewelry for safekeeping."
"So he says. We don't know a thing about the fellow but what he chooses to tell us. You may never see those things again, or like Mrs. Minton's ring, they will come back wearing glass stones."
I felt a perfect fool. I had been so worried what Mr. Dalton's opinion of me that I never gave a thought to my opinion of him.
"What was he doing loitering outside of Parker's shop in the first place?” she continued. “Who is to say he was not waiting for a quiet minute to slip in and sell his stolen wares? Remember how sly he was about pretending he could not find the emerald ring? There are strange kinks in that lad."
"Don't be ridiculous. He is top of the trees."
"Aye, but who is he? He does not have a handle to his name, does he?"
"I fear Lord Brockley's handle has gone to your simple head. I am going to bed now, Hennie. I suggest you remove your rouge and do the same. And the next time I invite a gentleman into this house, I would prefer if you not insult him.” I rose, bristling with dignity, to hide my concern. “Did you lose your ten pounds?” I asked.
"Yes, and I am glad I did. It has cured me of gambling. Ten pounds whistled down the wind inside of thirty minutes. Let it be a lesson to us. A fool and her money..."
"I am going to visit the modiste with Lady Filmore tomorrow morning. You are welcome to come with us, if you wish."
"I shall be driving out with Lord Brockley,” she announced, and poured herself a glass of wine.
Hennie never had wine before going to bed. Had I perverted her, as well as myself, with this hankering for society?
I took my worries upstairs with me. I thought of my box of jewels, handed over to Mr. Dalton without so much as a receipt. I went to the side window to see if I could spot the man he said he had guarding my house. There was not a sign of him. I looked at Dalton's house. Only the rear of it was visible behind an old yew hedge.
There were lights on in one room. Was he even now prying out the diamonds and rubies and sapphires? Weighing my pearls, which had so entranced him. Planning how he would replace them with fish paste. Well, he could not achieve it in one night, and tomorrow I would certainly demand the whole collection back. I was a fool to have trusted a stranger, and one whose behavior, when exposed to the clear light of reason, was questionable on many points.
Who was to say Dalton was not Tom himself, running a new rig since society must have taken precautions against him by now? He had no shortage of money, nor had he ever mentioned how he came by his fortune. I was easy pickings for him—a greenhead with a large fortune, and no family or close friends to guide her. He knew exactly how I was situated, too. Foster was familiar with my background, and he had access to Foster.
Between my worries and the surf pounding, I really did not need the pair of amorous felines who took to caterwauling outside my window that night. They were at it till all hours, uttering the most unabashed sounds, as they wallowed in animal ecstacy. At three o'clock I opened the window and threw my silver evening slippers at them. There was one louder meow than before, then a rustle of grass and finally blessed silence. Except, of course, for the demmed surf pounding. A wind had arisen, and trees took to whipping around.
I saw by a streak of lightning that the clock said three-fifteen; then I put my head under the pillow and finally slept.
Chapter Nine
My sleepless night left me cranky and hagridden. Hennie, on the other hand, had rejuvenated to girlhood. When she asked if she might borrow one of my bonnets, I knew she was halfway in love with Lord Brockley. I had been trying for an age to give her a new bonnet, but she always suggested I give the money to charity, if I had more than I knew what to do with. My only consolation was that Lady Filmore, when she stopped for me, looked nearly as hagged as I.
"What are your slippers doing in the front yard, Miss Denver?” she asked.
"I threw them at those cats that were making such a racket last night,” I admitted, and sent Mary out to retrieve them.
"Good. I wondered why they suddenly stopped howling."
This told me that she had not slept well either. Lord Harelson, I thought, was what had kept her awake.
As soon as we were in her carriage, I said, “I hope you and Harelson patched up your quarrel last night?"
"No, Mrs. Lament's was too public a place for that. I asked him to drive me home, but he said he was to meet Grindley at Mrs. Lament's later, so he could not come. He will call this afternoon if he does not go to Eastbourne to see his friend."
We spent over an hour at Mrs. Drouin's shop on Paradise Street. I had to be measured, as I was a new client. The French modiste treated me like royalty, when I came under Lady Filmore's auspices. My voice never rose above a polite murmur, which is not its customary volume when I am in the hands of a modiste. I ordered three gowns, and meant to return to have some new clothes made up for winter as well. She was awaiting a shipment of silks that were being smuggled in from France. Her workmanship was of the finest, and her patterns all from France. Lady Filmore ordered a blue mulled muslin, a replica of a pink mulled muslin she had bought the year before.
From there we drove to the milliner's. “I must have a new bonnet for your garden party, whatever Richard says,” she pouted. “He is forever nagging at me for spending too much money. I declare, Miss Denver, I might as well be married, for he is as bad as a husband."
I did not try to talk her out of a new bonnet. I could now wear my replica of her leghorn, the one she wears in her portrait at Somerset House, without fearing duplication. Her choice was a glazed straw with blue ribbons that tied under the chin. She looked so pretty in it, I don't know how Harelson could help falling in love with her.
It was enjoyable, strolling t
hrough the shops with another young lady, especially as I had not left Hennie alone. It was good for us to get away from each other now and then. Being too much together is bound to grate on the nerves. I met a good many new people that morning. Lady Filmore was the darling of the ton, and I was accepted as her friend. Nearly everyone we met asked for Mr. Dalton. In the clear light of day, it seemed impossible to believe that such a well-established gentleman was trying to steal my jewels. Lady Filmore did not mention my having entrusted them to him, and as I was unsure whether he wished her to know, I did not mention it either, but it was often on my mind during that otherwise delightful morning.
Hennie invited Lord Brockley to join us for luncheon. That was enjoyable, too. Not that his conversation added much of interest, but I was happy for Hennie's sake. He looked rather odd, all decked out in gray, from head to toe. Other than the color, his jacket and trousers were of the conventional cut. His conversation was peppered with the names of the great, even including the Prince of Wales.
"Brighton is not what it was used to be,” he said. “We had great times here in the old days. Coursing hares, hunting. That was before it got built up. We once hunted a carted stag all the way from the Steyne to Rottingdean. And of course, sailing and bathing, and all manner of mischief after dark. Prinny and Mrs. FitzHerbert—ah, ‘tis a pity he ever left her. He was used to stay at Grove House in those days. Drove down from London in a post chaise to show his people how economical he was. Mrs. FitzHerbert had hired a house behind the Castle Inn, right at his back door. It lent an aura of intrigue, all the slipping around. Of course, everyone and his dog knew what was going on. The crowds trailed after them everywhere they went. She was a handsome lady in her youth. Hair as yellow as corn. The nose a bit hooked, but a handsome lady withal.
"That was before I went to sea. There is no fun at the pavilion nowadays, but if you ladies would like to see it, I shall take you to call, just to give you a look at it."
We both expressed pleasure at this rare treat. With some concern for Dalton's reputation, I dropped a few hints as to how long he had known Mr. Dalton.
"I have known him forever,” he said. “The Daltons are a fine old Somerset family. They send two members up to Parliament. The family seat is called Gracemere—a lovely old Tudor castle, but all built up in other styles over the years. Richard, your neighbor, is the only son. He has made a fortune in investments. Of course, he did not start from the ground by a long shot. Always very well to grass, the Daltons."
This recital calmed my fears for my jewels. Hennie took her beau out to see the garden before he left. No sooner were they out the door than Mr. Dalton came pelting in. “Have you heard?” he asked, his eyes wide open.
I thought the prince must have died, or Boney escaped again, or something equally horrid. “What is it?” I demanded, clutching my heart.
"Tom has struck again. He got away with a fine haul from Lady Harkness. She had most of her jewelry in a safety box, but, like myself, she had a sum of cash in her desk. A thousand pounds, I have heard mentioned."
"Good God! When did it happen?"
"That is the deuce of it; she don't know. She brought the money down with her a week ago from London and only went to take some out to pay her bills this morning. The box was empty. She was out two or three nights. In fact, she was at Lady Verona's party just last evening. The servants were at home and heard nothing."
"Is it possible the servants took it?"
"She has known them forever. She vouches for their honesty. No, it sounds like Tom's work. My own feeling is that it happened just last night. Officer Hutton, the constable, says the library door had been pried open. One would think someone would have noticed sooner if it happened before last night, although it seems the library is not much used. No one remembers having been in it yesterday, so I daresay it might have happened the night before last. I have sent a message off to Bow Street. Townshend will want to have an officer here if Tom has removed to Brighton."
"Is my jewelry safe, Mr. Dalton?"
"Yes, I checked it the moment I heard of this latest robbery."
This gave me pause about asking for it back. Lord Brockley had vouched for Dalton. He and his sister were society's darlings, and now he had sent off for Bow Street. Surely this was not the behavior of a thief. And besides, I had no such safe place to keep it here as he had at his house. The bank was an alternative, of course, but one does not like to have to drive to the bank every time she wants to wear a necklace.
He watched me closely, sensing my doubts, though not, I trust, the exact nature of them. “The decision is yours, of course, but I do feel your valuables are as safe at my house as in the bank, and a deal more convenient. Tom, like lightning, does not seem to strike the same place twice, and he has already robbed me."
"I suppose you are right."
"If you fear losing them all, you could place half of them in a bank safe. Then if either the bank or my house is hit, you will still have something to wear. In any case, you will get your money back. The things are insured, of course?"
"No, I never bothered with that."
His mouth fell open. He swallowed a couple of times and said in a weak voice, “I suggest you insure them at once."
"Perhaps you are right,” I agreed. Then if, by any chance, Mr. Dalton's first name was Tom, I would still get my money back. “I shall speak to an agent this very afternoon."
"Best not to waste a minute. He will want to examine the merchandise. Feel free to bring him to my house. Linda will be out this afternoon, so—"
"Ah, I meant to ask if she knew you had my things. I did not mention it to her."
"I thought it best not to tell her. She has no vice in her, but her tongue runs on, and she talks to everyone. I feel she may have inadvertently let out that I had that five hundred pounds in my office. I had that very day got it out in front of her to give her some money. She does not recall mentioning it to anyone, but cannot swear that she did not do so either."
"What time will she be going out?"
"Mr. Grindley is picking her up at three for a spin in his curricle."
"His curricle? But he sold it! He told me so himself, and Lord Harelson mentioned it as well. How did he recoup it? I begin to think I hit the nail on the head in fingering him. He could have bought a new curricle with Lady Harkness's money."
Dalton's face became pensive. “It bears looking into, but I would not publicly accuse him on no more evidence than a new curricle. He might have bought it on tick."
"He punts on tick, but what merchant would sell to him on credit when it is well known in town his pockets are to let?"
"There are always the moneylenders. He could be living on post-obits. He will come into his uncle's fortune one day."
"Really? I did not realize that."
"He is related to half the noble houses of England. It is his mama's brother, Mr. Greely, who will make him a rich man one day. Greely owns a shipping company."
"That explains why he is allowed into polite saloons in a borrowed shirt and spotted cravat."
"Now, you must not make the common error of judging a book by its cover, Miss Denver,” he laughed. “Still, it would be interesting to know where Grindley was last evening."
"He was at Lady Verona's rout,” I said, “but he left before us, I think, and had not showed up at Mrs. Lament's when we left. In fact, Harelson said that he was to meet him there. He might have gone from the rout to Lady Harkness's house, then on to Mrs. Lament's with his pockets jingling."
"He might have done,” Dalton agreed, massaging his chin. “I expect he would know, in common with everyone else in the room, that Lady Harkness would not be going straight home."
"Was she at Mrs. Lament's den? I am afraid I cannot remember what she looks like."
"The lady in black Chantilly lace."
"Oh yes, I recall her.” One does not easily forget a lady decked out in black for a rout. She was a fading beauty who sought attention by bizarre outfits. “The const
able ought to search Grindley's apartment."
"Officer Hutton will not be eager to come to cuffs with Harelson. I expect Harelson would take it very much amiss to have his house searched."
"It would only be Grindley's apartment."
"It ought to be done, but not, I think, officially. I shall mention it to Bow Street."
"By the time Bow Street arrives, Grindley will have gambled the thousand pounds away."
"Still, someone can keep an eye on the fellow in future. Shall we go to an insurance office now? I am nervous, knowing those fabulous pearls are not insured."
I was surprised and pleased that he meant to come with me. I got my bonnet at once, and he had his carriage brought around. “We could have sent for the agent to come to us,” he said, “but it is a fine day for a drive, and the more often Miss Denver is seen about town, the better."
"I was seen about town all morning, with your sister."
"Linda mentioned bonnets and new gowns. I was surprised you did not order new slippers,” he quizzed. “I refer to your unaccountable habit of pitching perfectly good slippers out the window. I congratulate you on your aim. My missiles all missed their target."
"Were they keeping you awake, too, Mr. Dalton?"
He turned a flirtatious eye on me. “Something was, but I do not blame the cats entirely."
"Ah, you are referring to that other cat, named Tom."
"That, too.” His manner implied I was the main distraction.
Miss Denver was seen driving the length of the Pavilion Parade before we stopped at the insurance agent's office at three. Mr. Milliken came back to Dalton's house with us after we were sure Lady Filmore had left. Dalton brought my jewelry to the saloon for examination. The agent made his examination with a loupe and a practiced eye that assured me Dalton had not yet pried out the stones. Like Dalton, he was more enamored of Lorene's pearls than the other gems. “That flush of pink—marvelous,” he said. “And so perfectly matched. Wherever did you get them, Miss Denver?"