The Richmond Thief

by Lisa Boero

  Althea found herself seated next to Lord Ravenscrest and soon discovered that, despite his taste in simpering underage females, he was a kindred spirit. A chance word led to a long and detailed conversation on the subject of the new farming methods that Althea had caused to be implemented at Dettamoor Park. Then Lord Ravenscrest did Althea the honor of mentioning Sir Arthur’s work with admiration. “Some of the best work done these many years,” he said. “His death was a great loss to the Society, Lady Trent. A great loss.”

  Althea assented. “It was always his wish to elevate the study of the lowly animal, particularly the insect, within the Society. They are so overlooked but of such vital importance.”

  “Indeed, I am of Sir Arthur Trent’s opinion. Much may be gained or lost in a single planting because of them. Would that I were able to understand what attracts or repels them. Improvements in the methods of land rotation and plowing are nothing without the knowledge Sir Arthur sought.”

  Althea sighed. “If only I had it in my power to continue his work, but my sex precludes me from the hallowed portals of the Royal Society.” And then Althea had a wonderful, delightful, wicked idea. She continued, “However, I have in my possession a great many manuscripts written by my husband but not submitted for publication in the Philosophical Transactions due to the delicacy of his health. Do you think the Society would be interested in publishing them posthumously?”

  “I should think they would,” Ravenscrest replied.

  “Then I shall begin the process of transcribing his jumble of notes. I assisted him often with this sort of work and prepared his illustrations.”

  “Please let me know if I may be of assistance in any way. Although not a member myself, I have known Banks and Aldridge for many years, and Randolph Booth as well, if it comes to that.”

  “Then I shall count myself fortunate if your lordship would do me the honor of an introduction. I read in the Times that Lord Aldridge was to give a public lecture on the subject of his extensive botanical studies in the West Indies next Thursday at Somerset House. Shall you attend?”

  He smiled. “Most definitely, now that I know my duty.”

  Later that evening, when the ladies were making desultory conversation over coffee and the delightful honey cakes, Jane said to Althea in a low voice, “You seem very pleased with yourself. Like the cat with the canary.”

  “Dear Jane, I have finally figured out how to resolve my problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “How to continue my scientific work. Because it would be a shame if all of Arthur’s instruction were for naught.”

  “Arthur’s instruction, indeed. As if my brother ever wrote anything half so important before he met you. I am not simple enough to believe that he did everything on his own.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, but as you know, females are not welcome in the hallowed halls of scholarship. Unless, of course, their roles are properly explained,” Althea said.

  “As?”

  “As a poor widow whose only desire is to publish her deceased husband’s work.”

  “You wouldn’t—”

  “And why not? Arthur can’t mind. In fact, I’m sure he thinks it rather amusing, looking down on us from the heavens.”

  Jane smiled. “Well, he did like a good joke. And he certainly wouldn’t mind being more brilliant in death than he was in life. But wouldn’t someone eventually find out?”

  “How?”

  “At seven and twenty you may have many monographs yet to write.”

  “I’ll deal with that when I have to. Now, I just need to hit upon a topic that would produce a good monograph.”

  “Beetles?” Jane said.

  “That was Arthur’s wish, but he had already described his beetle in detail, so any further work would be derivative.”

  “Isn’t that what the Society expects?”

  “Yes, but I have never done what others expect. I want a novel idea.” Althea hushed quickly as Lady Beaconsfield approached.

  “Oh dear, I seem to have set my reticule down and misplaced it.” Lady Beaconsfield darted her head this way and that. “Don’t let me interrupt your conversation. Ah, there it is.” She indicated a table at Althea’s elbow. Althea handed it to her.

  “Thank you.” She sat down in the chair next to Althea. “All this business with the women is so tedious, is it not? Why, one tires so quickly of the usual topics of conversation. The men have the better part, I am sure of it. But then, what can one expect with such superior intellect?”

  Althea repressed a smile. “Indeed, you must be right.”

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, Althea was ensconced in the library, trying desperately to hit upon a subject for her monograph, when a servant presented her another white envelope on a silver platter. Althea stared at the seal. It must be the three graces. The note from Norwich read as follows:

  Forgive the manner of communication, madam. I had thought to pay a proper call, but events out of my control have prevented me from waiting upon you. Therefore, I will take the liberty of requesting that you drive with me this afternoon. Assuming your assent, I shall present myself at five o’clock. Should this time not be acceptable, please send word by the same messenger.

  N.

  “The presumption of the man knows no bounds,” Althea muttered to herself. And yet she could find no fault with the plan. The Levanwood party was engaged to dine with the Osterleighs in the evening, but no specific plans had been made for other activities. Unless one counted resting up for supper as an activity worthy of note.

  So at five o’clock, Althea found herself waiting patiently in the blue salon while attempting to pretend interest in some needlepoint Jane had thrust upon her to work. Jane herself was equally occupied in what purported to be a fire screen. The servant rapped softly and then pushed the heavy doors apart. “The Duke of Norwich has arrived and asked to speak with your ladyship. I have shown him into the library.”

  “Ah, yes.” Althea stood and shook out the skirts of a new blue velvet gown, which was severely cut and had gold braid at the shoulders and down the bodice. “At least the man is punctual,” she added to Jane. And then to the servant in a louder voice, “Please inform him that I will be with him shortly. Thank you.”

  After retrieving her bonnet and shawl, Althea passed through the door of the library.

  Norwich looked over from where he stood, examining one of the walls of books. “Thank you for not making me wait.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Has Your Grace found anything of interest on those shelves?”

  He smiled ruefully. “No. I take it that the Levanwoods are not overly fond of reading?”

  “Excepting Lord Charles, I don’t believe that the present generation has much interest.”

  He held out his arm. “Come. We have matters to discuss.”

  “If you like, we might speak here. I am no green girl, so we do not have to conserve the strictest propriety.”

  “No, much better to get it over with.”

  Althea opened her mouth to ask what he meant by such a remark, but he’d already taken her arm and guided her to the door.

  They didn’t speak again until she was tucked up in his phaeton, which was fine but not nearly as spectacular as John’s death carriage. The silky brown horses fidgeted and danced until he took them with a firm hand and led them out of the square. Then he said, “Are you comfortable?”

  Althea glanced back at the tiger perched behind them in his fine ducal livery and said in a low voice, “Yes, thank you. I suppose I should make some innocuous remarks at this point, but I have not the delicacy of mind for such formalities. I must assume from Your Grace’s behavior that you are now reconciled to my interaction with Bow Street?”

  He nodded.

  “And that Your Grace has determined to assist me in this endeavor.”

  “You will assist me. And please stop the ‘Your Grace’ this or that. You may call me Norwich or even Robert if you feel
the need, given the roles we have been forced to play. Formality is ridiculous in such a situation.”

  “And to what roles do you refer? I am at a loss to understand your meaning.”

  He looked at her in some astonishment. “Surely it is plain to a lady of your intellect?” And when she continued to stare at him, “Why, that of a suitor for your hand, madam. Otherwise, how are we to be seen in each other’s company without arousing suspicion?”

  “My hand?”

  “This cannot come as a surprise. The rumors have run rampant since I had the honor of dancing with you at the Levanwood ball. In fact, I would imagine that some of them have been assiduously spread about by the Levanwoods themselves.”

  Althea’s cheeks flushed pink. “They most assuredly have not!”

  He gave her a warning look and replied in a low voice, “Be that as it may, my purpose in entering upon this subject was to explain that, although it may appear to the uninformed that I am pursuing you, you will understand that this is merely a contrivance to catch the Richmond Thief and not—”

  “I apprehend exactly what you mean, and I will take this opportunity to explain to you that this speech is entirely unnecessary in light of the fact that our few meetings have shown me exactly how little we would suit. You may have no fears upon that head!”

  “I meant no offense, madam.”

  As they were just in the thick of the carriages on Rotten Row and Althea felt many pairs of eyes upon her, she quelled her anger and gave him her most disarming smile. “Lady Trent will do, or just Althea, if you feel your role calls for it.” And then through the clenched teeth of another smile, “As it is, you may do me the favor of explaining exactly in what way I can be of service to you in your pursuit of the Richmond Thief? Clearly, neither one of us was made for inconsequential conversation.”

  “As you wish. I will be holding a ball in a fortnight. The invitations should have already been sent. Please speak to Lady Levanwood if she has not mentioned this to you. You will attend this function wearing a pair of striking emerald earrings that were a gift from your late husband—”

  “Sir Arthur never gave me emeralds.”

  “Be that as it may, you will wear a pair of emerald earrings and a matching bracelet to the ball. I will supply them, but it will be up to you to circulate the false story of your husband’s priceless gifts to you.”

  “My husband once told me of a plant growing wild in the East Indies that is shaped like a cup with sweet nectar at the bottom. All manner of insects are attracted by the delectable fragrance, but once they approach the pool of ambrosia, they are trapped by the sticky syrup and slowly devoured by the plant for food.”

  “A plant that devours insects? That cannot be true.”

  Althea bristled at his tone. “The truth or fiction of the tale is immaterial. The point is that I am the plant and our Richmond Thief is the unfortunate insect. Have I got that right?”

  “Precisely right,” he replied with asperity.

  “I see several problems with the plan.”

  “I shall make sure you are watched at all times, so no harm may come to you.”

  “I am not concerned with my safety. I am concerned, however, that the Richmond Thief is not likely to steal jewels while a lady is wearing them. Further, should we fail in our object, I would hate to have you lose such fine gems.”

  “They have been specially made of paste stones backed with foil, but so finely done that one would have to remove them from the setting to know. And the thief has not always resorted to rank burglary. There have been several cases of ladies who suddenly find a ring or a bracelet unaccountably missing.”

  “So the thief is both burglar and pickpocket?”

  “Apparently.”

  “And Bow Street is sure that it has accurately attributed these thefts to the thief?”

  “All share certain characteristics. First, the thief targets members of the ton exclusively.”

  “The ton has the most jewelry to steal,” Althea replied.

  Norwich seemed vaguely annoyed. “Second, the jewels stolen are the family heirloom type.”

  “Again, those tend to be the most valuable. Else why would they be passed on generation after generation?”

  “And third,” he said with emphasis, “the thefts always take place in and around a ball or other social function.”

  “That at least does give rise to certain inferences.”

  “Such as?”

  “The thief must be inconspicuous enough to be able to move in and out of social situations. Someone who may mix in society without causing a disruption. Either a servant or an attendee at these functions.”

  He sighed. “At least we are finally in agreement.”

  Althea looked at him with a militant sparkle in her eye. “Do we disagree that often, sir? This is not a propitious start to our pretend courtship.”

  “If I may speak plainly—”

  “Don’t tell me that your past speeches are a product of restraint?”

  “Lord, woman, do give me a chance to speak! I have never met such an exasperating female in my life.”

  Althea drew herself up. “And I have never met a man who felt so free to tell another person that she is without brains or utility. Really sir, you have gone out of your way to insult me, and as much as I wish to be of use to Bow Street, I am beginning to think that I would be better off to pursue the investigation myself. At least then I could be more than a dumb lure and would not be subject to the tyranny of one who clearly holds me in low regard.”

  A carriage of ladies Althea didn’t know passed by at that moment and they stared at her. Norwich gave them a curt nod and they obediently moved on. When they had passed, he said in a low voice, “Please remember where you are.”

  “This is ridiculous. Take me home at once!”

  He looked at Althea with a strange expression. Perhaps shock, perhaps anger, perhaps some emotion she couldn’t name. “No, madam,” he said more quietly. “Let me begin again.”

  “Why should I let you?”

  That was clearly not the response he had expected. “Because—” Then he pulled the carriage up short and called back to the tiger, “Take the reins, Hutchins. I wish to walk with Lady Trent.”

  Norwich jumped down nimbly and held his hand out to Althea. “Please, madam.” His voice was softer now, almost pleading.

  Althea hesitated. Although the walking path was in plain view of the other occupants of the park, Norwich’s change of behavior unnerved her. “You may call me Lady Trent,” she said to say something.

  “Althea.”

  She relented and held out her hand. He took it, assisted her in dismounting, and then tucked her hand in his arm. They began to stroll down the walking path among the clumps of dashing young men and blushing ladies. It felt strangely familiar to walk with him.

  This is just how I used to walk with Arthur, she thought, and then she pushed the thought away. Norwich was nothing like Arthur.

  Once they were out of earshot of the other pedestrians, he said, “I suppose this is the moment I should offer a profuse apology.”

  She looked up at him just as the sunlight caught his golden hair, creating a glittering halo around his head. He seemed otherworldly in that moment, like a gilded angel from one of those moldering psalters still safely stored on the shelves of the library at Dettamoor Park. And the thought of this golden man walking beside her with her hand tucked neatly in his arm made her feel strangely lightheaded. She clutched desperately at her former composure. “Given our prior acquaintance, I feel sure that such an apology will not be forthcoming.”

  Instead of the thundering anger she had been expecting, Norwich began to laugh. A slow rumble at first, then swelling to a full-throated laugh that echoed around them.

  Althea’s shoulders relaxed. “I did mean that seriously.”

  Norwich pulled himself back together and wiped his streaming eyes. “I know you did. Lady Trent, what a strange pair we make. Come, let’s take
a turn and discuss what we are to do.”

  “No more tyrannical dictates?”

  “I have entirely given up trying to guide you.”

  She smiled archly. “You are a quick learner, my lord. Sir Arthur took several years before he reached the same conclusion.”

  “Your husband was a saint.”

  “So I have been told.”

  Chapter Nine

  After that stroll in Hyde Park, Norwich became a fixture at the house, much to Charles’s evident frustration. But he wasn’t the only male to make his presence known in Grosvenor Square. Sir Neville had taken to paying social calls several weeks back, inviting the ladies, including Lady Levanwood, to such sedate diversions as would find favor with refined town-bred women. And upon learning that Althea and Jane were determined to attend Aldridge’s lecture, he offered his services as escort. In this, he was thwarted somewhat by Charles’s expressing a desire to accompany the ladies himself.

  That morning Althea awoke with a splitting headache. As she was not normally prone to such maladies, she examined her activity on the previous day for any clues, but nothing stood out. After a turn in Hyde Park with John, she had returned home, and then in the evening they had attended a musical performance at the house of Baroness Kamynski, one of the flighty, overdressed women who seemed to make up Lady Levanwood’s circle. Granted, she had drunk some wine with supper, but nothing so as to produce deleterious effects. And she had virtuously refused anything stronger than coffee afterward. Charles had even remarked favorably on her cool-headed abstinence when he tried to offer her a claret cup.

  So her precise raven recordings skipped a day as she lay in bed, trying to recover her strength in time for the lecture. Fortunately, the combination of a darkened room and toast dipped in weak tea worked its magic, and by the afternoon she was dressed and ready for enlightenment.

  The odd quartet departed Grosvenor Square for the Strand. Althea felt her heart beat a little faster at the thought of entering the grand portal of Somerset House. Arthur had experienced his greatest triumph there—a lecture on the discovery of the beetle that ultimately bore his name. And Althea had asked him to repeat the details of his speech so many times that she felt a strange sense of déjà vu as she entered the expansive patio and climbed the stairs to the rooms occupied by the Royal Society.