The Major Meets His Match

by Annie Burrows

  ‘Oh! Forgers! Do you think that reference...?’

  Lord Becconsall smiled at her. ‘It is possible. Very possible.’

  Lord Rawcliffe coughed. ‘I hate to interrupt you, but the rest of us in this room have no idea what you are talking about.’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Harriet. ‘It is just that the girl suspected of being the jewel thief in our household was given a reference by an elderly lady who never sets foot from her home in Dorset. And the girl herself came from Norfolk. So how could they possibly have met?’

  ‘Not in itself conclusive evidence a forgery has been employed.’

  ‘No, but...’ She sighed in exasperation. ‘I am not explaining this very clearly. You see, at first, when I started asking the servants what they knew, they all got very annoyed with me. But then, when Lord Tarbrook had me shut in my room, they began to relent.’

  At her side, on the sofa, she was aware of Lord Becconsall stiffening. If it was because she’d just said Lord Tarbrook had shut her in her room, then he wasn’t as bright as everyone thought, for she’d told him, by way of her story, about being shut in. She glanced at him to see he was gazing at her with what looked like admiration, though why on earth he should do any such thing, at this point in her narrative, she couldn’t imagine.

  ‘Anyway,’ she continued informing the others, ‘by the time he threw us out—me and Mama, that is—they were beginning to see that all I wanted was to clear Aunt Susan’s name, not send one of them, wrongfully, to the gallows. And they’d all been talking amongst themselves, and remembered this girl who’d worked for Lady Tarbrook for only a few weeks, a couple of years ago.’

  ‘Two years ago? Then...the criminals must have been running this rig—which is what they call deceiving their victims,’ Lord Becconsall explained, ‘for some considerable time.’

  ‘My grandmother,’ put in Archie, ‘died six months ago.’

  ‘I wonder how many other thefts there have been in the interim,’ Lord Becconsall pondered. ‘Because I cannot see them leaving a great gap between one operation and the next, not if the method had such a successful outcome.’

  ‘You are assuming the theft of the Kellett rubies took place only six months ago,’ pointed out Lord Rawcliffe. ‘Your jewel thief may have taken them at the same time as she took the Tarbrook parure. Each theft was only discovered upon the event of an impending betrothal, or burial,’ he said, as though either fate was an equally horrid one.

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know,’ Harriet answered. ‘Because nobody will talk about the copying of jewels, will they? Because they will think that it means someone in their family is concealing debts.’

  ‘My word, but whoever thought this up must be brilliant,’ said Lord Becconsall. ‘First they have the jewels copied, to delay discovery, and then they relied on the people concerned bickering amongst themselves about who may be responsible, rather than reporting it as theft at all. Hiding their crime under two layers of concealment.’

  ‘They might have been doing this for years...’ breathed Harriet.

  ‘Until you believed in the innocence of one of their victims,’ said Lord Becconsall with a look in his eyes that she could not mistake this time. He really did look as though he admired her.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Tell us everything you have managed to discover.’

  ‘Well, not much more than I’ve already told you. Maud only had the time it took us to pack my things to tell me what the servants suspected, because Lord Tarbrook wanted us out of his house almost as quickly as Mama wished to leave. Maud only managed to tell me that they became suspicious about this one particular girl because although she said she was leaving because she’d got a better place, to their knowledge she wasn’t actually in service anywhere any longer.’

  ‘The better offer might have come from a man,’ Lord Rawcliffe put in.

  ‘I suppose it might,’ Harriet conceded. ‘Except that even in that case, somebody would have caught sight of her, wouldn’t they? Parading about the park in her new finery? And also, she wasn’t very attractive. Nor flirtatious. A little mouse, was the way Maud described her. Which makes her sound like the perfect person to creep into my aunt’s house and sneak out again as soon as she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. Oh, dear,’ she added. ‘I sound as if I’ve found her guilty already. Just because she didn’t fit in with the other servants and she didn’t bother to tell any of them where she intended to go when she left. For whatever reason.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that another reason not to employ Bow Street Runners? They would be more concerned about appearing to apprehend a culprit, than finding out the truth.’

  Harriet sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose so. I certainly want to find her and make her answer a few questions. Even if she isn’t involved, directly, she might know something...’

  ‘We shall find her, Lady Harriet,’ said Lord Becconsall gently. ‘But we won’t apprehend her unless we are sure she is guilty. You have my word.’

  ‘And how are we to find her,’ said Lord Rawcliffe witheringly, ‘when the servants claim to have no idea where she has gone?’

  ‘Well, we could start looking in the village where she came from. It’s called Bogholt—’

  Lord Rawcliffe let out a bark of laughter. ‘If there is really any such place I shall be very surprised.’

  ‘Well, be surprised then,’ Harriet retorted, ‘because I found it on a map. Somebody there is bound to know of her, if she really came from there, because it is only a tiny hamlet. In the Forest of Thetford.’

  Lord Rawcliffe inclined his head in her direction. ‘I stand corrected. Please, do tell us what else you believe you know.’

  Harriet glared at him. And then proceeded to tell the others what she knew.

  ‘Her name is Jenny Wren—’

  ‘An alias if ever I heard one,’ muttered Lord Rawcliffe.

  ‘And she was given the job on the recommendation of the Dowager Lady Buntingford.’

  ‘Lady B-B...’ Archie began.

  ‘Buntingford,’ Lord Rawcliffe finished on his behalf. ‘Why, is there some special significance to that name, in your case as well?’

  ‘Yes. She was one of Grandmama’s friends. C-Came out together, wrote to each other all the time. Asked her to b-be my own mother’s godmother. Lives in Lesser Peeving, now, as I recall.’

  ‘Is that in Dorset?’

  ‘Y-yes.’

  ‘Then there we have a clear connection.’

  ‘Do you seriously mean to tell me,’ said Harriet in disbelief, ‘that you suspect this elderly lady of persuading her former friends to employ a jewel thief in the guise of a lady’s maid? So that she can...hoard them all up like some kind of elderly demented magpie?’

  ‘Perhaps that is why she has become a recluse,’ suggested Lord Rawcliffe. ‘Perhaps her family have her safely locked away on one of their estates so that she cannot wander about in society embarrassing everyone by helping herself to other people’s gewgaws.’

  ‘But she is thwarting them all by sending out an experienced jewel thief in her stead? No, I don’t think that will fadge,’ said Lord Becconsall. ‘For one thing, how did she meet the thief? If she is being kept locked away?’

  ‘What about forgery?’ said Captain Bretherton, making Harriet jump because he’d been so quiet since he’d slumped down on his chair that she’d suspected he’d dozed off. ‘Probably easy enough to forge the writing of an elderly lady. I’ve seen men forge my own signature,’ he said bitterly, ‘in such a convincing manner that I was half-persuaded I’d signed the docket myself.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Lord Becconsall, ‘that if a criminal gang can employ a girl to slip into houses under the guise of a maid and make her disappear afterwards, and can think of a crime that is damn near unnoticeable, then they would be bound to have access to a f
orger. And a fence.’

  ‘But that doesn’t explain why it’s always rubies,’ said Harriet. ‘I mean, I can see a demented elderly lady wanting to pile them all up, in secret. But not for a professional criminal to only steal one kind of jewels. Why didn’t he go for the Tarbrook diamonds? They must be worth a lot more than that old set of rubies that hardly anyone ever wore.’

  ‘We have no evidence that the thieves have only ever stolen rubies,’ said Lord Rawcliffe. ‘We only know of two cases, after all. It may be coincidence that both crimes feature rubies.’

  ‘According to my men,’ said Lord Becconsall, ‘some thefts are done to order.’

  ‘You mean,’ said Harriet incredulously, ‘people say, I’d like a ruby necklace, and a thief just goes out and steals one?’

  ‘Not quite that cut and dried, but someone with a particular demand will let it be known in certain quarters that a suitable reward will be offered for the right kind of goods. That sort of thing.’

  ‘Goodness.’

  ‘Yes, but I think you have also given us another very good reason why this particular criminal has targeted the jewels in question. The Tarbrook diamonds are famous and popular. The rubies were not.’

  ‘That’s true. Aunt Susan kept them shut away and nobody wore them except on special occasions because they were so hideous.’

  ‘Another layer of insurance to ensure the theft wasn’t detected. The gang only stole jewels that were not going to be missed in a hurry. Though they might well have had a specific buyer in mind, all the same,’ said Lord Becconsall, as though reluctant to relinquish his theory about why there were two sets of rubies that had been copied.

  ‘It m-makes you w-wonder how a thief w-would know ab-bout them, then. If the ladies hardly ever wore them.’

  There was a beat of silence. ‘They do appear in several portraits, apparently,’ said Harriet. ‘Painted whenever one of the Tarbrook ladies became betrothed. There is one hanging in the London house, of Lord Tarbrook’s sister, done many years ago. Kitty pointed it out to me to prove how hideous they were.’

  ‘Ah! It’s the same with the K-Kellett Set. Show up in p-portraits going back hundreds of years. Starting in Elizab-bethan t-times. Only reason I knew a-bout them as I’ve never seen my mother actually wear them. C-couldn’t have done, of c-course,’ he added with a frown, ‘since they were in m-my g-grandmother’s p-possession until she d-died.’

  Lord Becconsall whistled low. ‘Whoever is running this particular rig must have had access to the homes of families from the haut ton and seen the jewels he planned to steal depicted in portraits, since the ladies in both these cases were reluctant to actually wear them in public.’

  ‘Or she,’ pointed out Lord Rawcliffe. ‘There is some merit in Lady Harriet’s theory of the elderly demented magpie, in my opinion.’

  Harriet would have preened had she not detected a hint of cynicism in Lord Rawcliffe’s voice that made her fear he was actually mocking her.

  ‘It would be much simpler to assume that she sent a lady’s maid into the houses to steal jewels she had her eye on, rather than to have someone go to all the trouble of employing a forger to fake those references. She also knows the families intimately and would therefore have known that it would be possible to steal and copy jewels that weren’t very often on show. And given the maid clear instructions as to how to go about it.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a very good point,’ said Harriet, grudgingly, for she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to be thinking along the same lines as Lord Rawcliffe. ‘For Maud said none of the servants could see how a burglar could have got in and stolen the jewels, then replaced them with copies before anyone noticed they’d even gone missing. Which made me think that there must have been somebody who knew the family, and their habits, and all about the jewels, too.’

  ‘It would also explain,’ said Lord Becconsall, ‘as you said earlier, Rawcliffe, why her family keep her shut away, nowadays, if she is in the habit of helping herself to shiny things that don’t belong to her.’

  ‘Lesser Peeving,’ said Lord Rawcliffe, as though he hadn’t been paying attention to the last few moments of conversation. ‘Why does that place sound familiar? I am certain I can never have visited the place. But I have heard it mentioned. Somewhere.’

  ‘It will come to you,’ said Lord Becconsall. ‘Probably when you are thinking about something else.’

  ‘I feel sure you must be right,’ he said in such a condescending tone that Harriet felt a bit indignant on Lord Becconsall’s behalf.

  ‘Well, then,’ said Lord Becconsall, without appearing to have taken the slightest bit of offence. ‘Now all we have to do is come up with a plan of campaign.’ He got to his feet, as though eager to get started.

  ‘I have already told Lady Harriet that I am willing to go to this Bogholt place to find out what I can about the servant girl,’ he said, ‘under pretext of attending the next meeting at Newmarket.’

  ‘Do you not think it would be better,’ said Lord Rawcliffe, ‘if I were to do that? I attend the races regularly. Whereas you do not have the reputation of being much of a gamester.’

  ‘Except when it comes to cream buns, apparently,’ Harriet couldn’t resist saying.

  Lord Rawcliffe gave her a cold stare.

  ‘I hope I am not going to regret admitting you into my confidence.’

  ‘Never mind the cream buns,’ said Lord Becconsall, planting his fists on his hips. ‘We need to focus on the rubies. And finding out who took them. And I already have things all planned out in my head regarding the trip to Bogholt. I can mingle with the locals and win their trust far more easily than you, Zeus. You’ll go striding in there as though you are God and set up everyone’s backs, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  Lord Rawcliffe raised one eyebrow. ‘You are seriously considering leaving Town, just when Lady Harriet is beginning to soften towards you?’

  Lord Becconsall turned to look at Harriet, who felt as if she’d just been stripped naked by that percipient remark. Which wasn’t a very helpful feeling to have, just when Lord Becconsall was looking at her so intently.

  For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other. And though Harriet was blushing, she couldn’t drag her eyes from Lord Becconsall’s face. Because it bore such a look of wonder, and hope, that her initial feeling of vulnerability faded with each breath she took.

  ‘I have something to prove to Lady Harriet,’ said Lord Becconsall to Lord Rawcliffe, though he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. ‘My trip to Bogholt will be in the nature of a quest.’

  ‘I don’t think that will be necessary,’ Lord Rawcliffe drawled. ‘Or advisable. You would do far better to stay here and court her in form. As she deserves. Ladies, so I have found, prefer a man to be near them, dancing attendance, not haring off on ridiculous quests which they will decide you have undertaken as much for your own amusement as to impress them.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Again, although he was speaking to Lord Rawcliffe, he was looking intently at her face. ‘Lady Harriet?’ He took a half-step closer to her and gazed down into her face. Whatever he saw there appeared to help him come to a decision.

  ‘You go to Bogholt, then,’ he said to Lord Rawcliffe airily, ‘and find out what you can. I will stay here with Lady Harriet and—’

  ‘Give her daily reports of progress with the investigation,’ said Lord Rawcliffe smoothly.

  ‘And I will go to Lesser P-Peeving,’ said Archie. ‘P-pay a visit to my mother’s g-godmother. See if she is hoarding rubies in her chamber p-pot, or something of that nature.’

  ‘Or if she’s taken a skilled forger into her employ,’ put in Captain Bretherton, who appeared to have forgers on the brain. Not surprising if he’d had his own signature faked, she supposed. ‘Do you happen to have a role mapped out for me?’

  ‘I should think Ulysses will, in du
e course, be in need of a groomsman. And who better to stand up with him than you?’

  Both Captain Bretherton and Lord Becconsall shot Lord Rawcliffe identical looks of indignation. And Harriet was pretty certain a similar sort of expression showed on her own face. It was all very well his friends calling him Zeus, and letting him manage their lives, but he had no right to subject her to the same kind of treatment.

  ‘Ah. It has just come to me,’ he said, as though oblivious to the hostile glances being aimed in his direction. ‘Lesser Peeving. Oh, lord, how ironic,’ he said with a shake of his head.

  ‘Are you going to enlighten us?’

  Lord Rawcliffe regarded the head of his cane for a moment or two. ‘I do not think it has any bearing on the case. At least, I hope it does not have any bearing on the case. It is just that I happen to know of a clergyman who was sent to a parish there, a few years ago. His father is the incumbent of the parish nearest to Kelsham Park, so naturally I hear news of his offspring, from time to time.’

  ‘Well, that’s one mystery solved,’ said Lord Becconsall, with heavy irony.

  ‘Which, gentlemen, brings the proceedings here to a conclusion. I will take my leave of you, Lady Harriet,’ said Lord Rawcliffe, bowing over her hand and kissing it. And darting her a look from a pair of heavy-lidded eyes that would, she was sure, have made the hearts of many society misses skip a beat.

  Apart from one whose heart had already been given to another.

  ‘Come, Atlas, Archie,’ he said, jerking his head to the other two men, who immediately sprang to their feet.

  Only Lord Becconsall remained exactly where he was. Even when his friends had left the room, shutting the door behind them.

  And he was looking at her in such a way that her heart began to thump against her chest. For she was alone, in a virtually empty house, with a man who was gazing at her as though he wanted to devour her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Your hands are absolutely freezing,’ said Lord Becconsall.