Larcenous Lady

by Joan Smith

  “Why, there’s no need to lay down your blunt. The conte has a room full of old clothes. I’m sure the contessa would be delighted to let the youngsters root around and find something,” the duchess said.

  Carlotta led the young ladies off to try their luck amidst the decaying silks and laces from the past. Lucy found a gold brocade court gown cut daringly low in front and wanted to try it on. When she came from behind the screen to get help with the back fasteners, the gown was seen to be much too low in front and too long. Her feet got caught under the hem at every step.

  “That gown would fit you better, Miss Sutton,” the contessa suggested, measuring Elvira’s size and height.

  Elvira just shook her head. “No, I mean to go as the Queen of Sheba.”

  “What will you wear?” Carlotta asked. “I confess I wouldn’t have a notion what would be suitable.”

  “Something very rich and splendid,” Elvira said vaguely.

  Lucy, busily pawing through racks of gowns, exclaimed, “Oh, look, Elvira! This would just suit you. A blue shot silk, with gold ribbons and a sort of shawl thing, all beaded.”

  Elvira lifted the gown from the rack and observed it. Carlotta said, “That should fit you, Miss Sutton. I put it on once and it was to large for me. Try it.”

  Elvira carried the gown behind the screen. When Deirdre saw Carlotta following her on the pretext of helping her with the gown, she went, too. It might be a ruse for them to have some private talk.

  “Good gracious, I don’t want an audience while I undress!” Elvira laughed. “Modesty forbids. Lucy! You come and help me.”

  Carlotta looked amazed at this blushing speech. “My dear, we are not voyeurs!” she said haughtily. On this speech she strode from behind the screen, with Deirdre behind her.

  There was some girlish giggling behind the screen, and in a few moments Elvira came out, looking regal in the silk gown, with the shawl modestly drawn across her shoulders and hiding her chest. Carlotta regarded her critically. “Take off the shawl,” she suggested.

  “The fit isn’t very good,” Elvira said, and went back to remove the gown.

  Carlotta watched her as she left. She shrugged her shoulders. “What she didn’t want us to see was her large waist,” she said in a low voice to Deirdre. “She couldn’t get the gown done up at the back. My waist is eighteen inches,” she added, spanning it with her own hands. She looked through the racks for a larger gown, but nothing met Elvira’s favor.

  “I shan’t take up any more of your time,” Elvira said. “Tomorrow we shall go to the Merceria and choose something, Lucy. I would like to see the statuary in the garden before dinner. May we go outside and wander around, Contessa?”

  The contessa was quite satisfied for the guests to entertain themselves. She and Deirdre returned to the saloon for a glass of wine. Belami looked alert when they entered. Deirdre shook her head. Nothing interesting occurred over tea either, except that the conte was so enraptured with Elvira that he didn’t watch what he was about and drooled down his shirt front. Pronto became a bit miffed at the old fellow’s way of staring at his fiancée.

  “Miss Sutton is marrying me the day after tomorrow,” he told the conte, rather sternly.

  “You are a fortunate man, sir. She is uncommonly pretty. You will have trouble with that one. I like a lady who gives me plenty of trouble. That’s why I married my Carlotta,” he said fondly.

  Pronto sat, trying to figure out whether he’d been complimented or insulted. “Miss Sutton is a very nice girl.”

  The conte nudged his elbow into Pronto’s and smiled wickedly. “They all fool us that way at the beginning. Nice girl—ha, there is no such a thing. And if there were, we ought to have a law against it. I have been to your England. And France. Ladies are the same the world over. All trouble. Love is flame for a year, then ashes for thirty. But that one year makes it all worthwhile.” He smiled at Carlotta.

  After the party was over and the guests had gone home, Belami found himself wondering why Carlotta had invited them. She hadn’t been alone with any of the Suttons for a moment. She hadn’t even tried to get any of them alone. Certainly no exchange, even of information or a note, had occurred. It seemed a pointless visit, and Carlotta wasn’t a lady who engaged in pointless doings.

  The contessa had invited her houseguests to attend the opera that evening along with some other friends. Belami was interested to hear the music and see how an opera was carried out in a foreign country. He thought the music might have been good, had he been allowed to hear it.

  The Venetians, he learned, went to an opera or a play to flirt and talk. Even the talk was no more than gossip—whose wife had a new cavalier servente, who was enceinte, and who was the probable father. He received many interested smiles and more than one invitation to call, always on married ladies. The ladies, it seemed, weren’t allowed to flirt or take a lover till they had secured their reputation with a marriage first. Like England in that respect.

  He felt he was wasting his time. He had only one more day—tomorrow—to save Pronto. Why was Elvira marrying Pronto? Was it for his money? Maybe she didn’t intend to marry him at all. He’d given her a valuable diamond ring. With luck, that was all she was after. He sat staring at the stage, not hearing a sound. Styger returned tomorrow. The wedding was the next day.

  His head buzzed with questions. Was it the plan for the whole lot of them to disappear Friday night? If so, Carlotta’s having stolen the dies might throw a spanner into things. They wouldn’t want to leave without the dies. Where was Styger, and what was he doing? And where was Claude? Why had Elvira made that flying trip to see them? If she wasn’t Claude’s wife, then it hadn’t been an amorous rendezvous. Had she gone to get money—counterfeit money—to buy Lucy’s pearl and the diamond necklace?

  Odd that a duplicate of that rare pearl had turned up so quickly and so conveniently in Padua. A jolt of excitement shot through him. Deirdre, sitting beside him, could feel his body jerk. She looked and recognized the smile of success on Belami’s face. His eyes sparkled in a certain way. “Shall we go out for a glass of wine?” he asked.

  “It isn’t intermission,” she whispered back.

  “The whole performance is an intermission.”

  He rose and led Deirdre out of the box. “What is it? What have you deduced?” she asked eagerly.

  He got two glasses of wine and they went to a quiet corner to talk. “I think I’ve just been struck with inspiration,” he said. “Listen carefully, and stop me if I go astray. We have the Suttons buying for one thousand English pounds a valuable pearl that is reportedly unique. We have Elvira making an inexplicable dash to Claude Jalbert, who that same day visits Styger. Next, Styger takes a short trip. And suddenly another pearl is found, the asking price shot up to three thousand pounds. What do you figure that jeweler in Padua paid for this second pearl?”

  “About twenty-five hundred, I should think. He’d want to make some profit.”

  “Of course. And if the owner paid one thousand, he makes fifteen hundred profit. Have you seen Elvira wear the pearl since they bought it?”

  “No, she’s waiting till Lucy gets hers.”

  “The hell she is. There’s only one pearl. They bought it for a thousand in Venice, had Cerboni send out an urgent message looking for another. Meanwhile Elvira took the pearl to Claude. Styger ripped off the gold cap and sold the original for twenty-five hundred to a jeweler in Padua, who was convinced he could sell it to Cerboni at a profit. The Suttons make a cool fifteen hundred without even breaking the law.”

  “But when they pay three thousand for it, they lose their profit,” Deirdre pointed out.

  “They don’t intend to buy it. They’ll discover some flaw, or Lucy will decide she wants something else, and Cerboni will be stuck with it.”

  “Good gracious! Surely it would be illegal.”

  “I think not. Caveat emptor applies to the jewelers here. If the Suttons don’t like the pearl, they don’t have to buy it. They only
asked Cerboni to try to find them one. They didn’t sign a contract to buy it.”

  “I never heard of anything so wicked in my life.”

  “And you the duchess of Charney’s niece!” Belami laughed. “Of course I have no proof of any of this, but it explains the seemingly inexplicable behavior of several of our suspects. I told you it would be all quite simple once we had doped it out.”

  “It enlarges our circle of suspects. Mrs. Sutton must be in on it.”

  “She’s fallen under suspicion before now. I never could credit that a nabob was traveling like a pauper. Furthermore, the whole nabob story was a hoax. She must know one of her daughters is married to Claude. She’s going along with the whole game—in it up to her prissy lips and gray hair. In fact—” Belami put down his wine and began pacing the hall, with Deirdre beside him.

  “What?” she asked excitedly.

  “I wish that demmed tenor would stop squawling. I can’t think. Deirdre, let’s leave.”

  “I can’t. My aunt—”

  “We’ll go outside at least.” He took her hand and they went out into the cool night, where they continued pacing up and down in front of the opera hall.

  “We know the Jalbert gang consists of an older man and woman, Mr. and Mrs. Jalbert. Maybe Mrs. Sutton is Mrs. Jalbert. She had the newspaper I gave him when he was calling himself Styger. I thought Elvira had got it from Claude.”

  “But their passports—”

  “Thieves clever enough to counterfeit coins could forge passports or buy forgeries, or steal them for that matter. Then one of the girls could be Claude’s wife.”

  “But that leaves us with an extra girl, and lacking Claude,” Deirdre pointed out.

  “I’m trying to account for that discrepancy. The group obviously broke up to make their escape easier. Police in various countries were looking for an old couple and a young couple. I imagine that’s why Mrs. Sutton was so agreeable to sharing a carriage with your aunt for the trip. The customs people wouldn’t expect a duchess to be traveling with common criminals. And it’s why I didn’t get my note in Paris. Elvira didn’t want me sleuthing after them. You see how it’s all falling into place?”

  “I still don’t see where Claude is hiding himself.”

  “He and Styger separated in case one of them is caught. That leaves the other free to look after the ladies. Claude’s wife must have a sister. That accounts for the extra girl.”

  “I’m sure the girls really are sisters. They’re very close,” Deirdre told him. “Elvira’s kind to Lucy, though she used to become impatient with her from time to time. Occasionally during our trip Elvira wanted to be alone with me to discuss men and things, and Lucy would take a pet. Just the way sisters do, you know.”

  “I can buy that. They must be sisters, but if Lucy’s the married one, she wouldn’t have to be excluded from your risqué conversations, would she? Fancy you talking broad. I can’t picture it. But I can picture Elvira,” he added, his voice thinning.

  “That’s true. Elvira did seem the more experienced one. I hope she is married. Then she can’t plan to actually marry Pronto. She’s just using him.”

  “She’s taken control of his passport. It would come in handy if they plan to shear off.”

  “I almost hope they do,” Deirdre said.

  “In one more day, we’ll know. God, Pronto will be brokenhearted. We’ll have to be kind to him.”

  “Do you think they really plan to buy that diamond necklace for Elvira?”

  “Of course they do, about ten minutes before they run away. The second pearl, I noticed, was to have some work done on it before the purchase. They don’t have to buy it yet. They duck out and leave it behind, along with their counterfeit money, while they run off with a genuine diamond necklace and about fifteen hundred profit from the pearl stunt.”

  Deirdre sorted all this underhanded business out in her head and sighed. “It’s hard to conceive of so much deceit. Only you could figure it out, Belami.”

  “Thank you—I think.”

  “What are you going to do to stop them?”

  “They haven’t done anything illegal in Venice yet. They’ve just set the wheels in motion. Till they actually spend the counterfeit money, all I could do would be report them to Hoppner and let the English officials take over. You know my opinion of officialdom. I’d rather handle it myself.”

  “You’ll warn Cerboni at least?”

  “He thinks I’m a lunatic since their first batch of money proved genuine. That’s why Elvira wanted me there, of course. They won’t buy the diamonds till they’re ready to leave. Cerboni will eventually discover the coin is counterfeit, but by then they’ll be several cities away. Maybe even out of the country. That’s why she stole my counterfeit guinea, by God! So Cerboni wouldn’t have it to compare with the false coins they plan to dump on him. I wonder if they have the counterfeit money in hand yet. Elvira might have brought it back with her. No one saw her enter. On the other hand, ten thousand or so in gold would be too heavy for a woman to handle. I imagine Styger-Jalbert or Claude will bring it to Venice. Réal will be on his tail.”

  “So we can do nothing but wait,” Deirdre said.

  “Waiting’s the hardest part. I mean to see Pronto tomorrow and try to prepare him for the disappointment.”

  “Don’t say too much. He tells Elvira everything—you know Pronto. Discretion was never his long suit.”

  Belami turned and gave her a flashing smile. “Nor mine. I’d best return you to your aunt. I wouldn’t want to increase her disgust of me just when I’m trying to reingratiate myself. She accidentally smiled at me during dinner.”

  “She complained of gas while we were dressing. And furthermore, I haven’t said yes.”

  “So there,” he said, and laughed. “One thing at a time.”

  It certainly wasn’t a smile that Charney turned on Belami when they entered the box. Her face looked like the death mask of some ancient martyr. “What, you didn’t bring any wine back for the rest of us? I made sure that’s why you were leaving or I wouldn’t have let Deirdre go. Bring us some wine, Belami.”

  In his eagerness to please, Belami hopped up. The duchess turned her charms on the conte. “It will not be nearly so good as your excellent stuff, Conte. I think if I have it taken to a ship and sent directly home by water, it will make the trip without harm. It is not worthwhile shipping two hogsheads. Let us make it four—and be sure to send me a bill,” she added.

  Carlotta stared coolly across the box. “Why not pay before you leave us, Duchessa?”

  Charney bared her teeth. “Of course! What was I thinking of?”

  “I can’t imagine,” Carlotta replied.

  Belami got a glimmering of what might please the old lady and winked at Deirdre, who pokered up and ignored him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Belami was at the Léon Bianco at ten the next morning, fully expecting to find his friend in bed. He was surprised to see Pronto not only up and dressed but pacing the lobby. Pronto’s haggard appearance suggested that he had either drunk too much the night before or not slept enough. He was no insomniac; he’d been known to fall asleep on his way to bed.

  “I take it you were celebrating last night?” he said.

  “If you can call it a celebration with Mrs. Sutton and Lucy dogging our every step,” Pronto grumbled. “Mean to say, engaged after all. Not as though I was a demmed seven-day beau. Getting a bit peeved with them all, Dick. As bad as Charney.”

  “Let’s eat. You’ll feel better,” Belami suggested.

  They ordered beefsteak and ale, but Pronto just sat staring at his plate. “My last breakfast as a bachelor,” he said wistfully. “Tomorrow I’ll be Mr. Pilgrim.”

  “Are things not going well with you and Elvira?”

  “How can they? We’re never alone for two minutes. And even when we are—not that I mean to say Elvira’s a cold woman,” he added hastily.

  This surprised Belami. He had suspected Elvira of many thi
ngs, but never of prudishness or a lack of ardor. If anything, he feared she had more experience than a gentleman could want in his wife. “A little shy, is she?” he asked.

  “Not shy exactly,” Pronto said, chasing a piece of beef around the plate with his fork. “Not shy of speaking her mind or of meeting strangers. It’s only when we’re alone. Tell me, Dick, does Deirdre let you—you know ...”

  Belami looked at his friend’s worried face and frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. Deirdre isn’t fast, and I wouldn’t want her to be. I hope you haven’t been—”

  “No, no! Nothing like that. I only meant a bit of a cuddle. Well, I know Deirdre does, for I saw you at Fernvale last winter. Close as inkle-weavers. Elvira don’t let me do it. Kiss her, except once on the fingers and once on the elbow. Accident. I was aiming for her jaw. She lifted her arm so fast I was knocked galley west. Did get a lick at her elbow though,” he added, with some trace of satisfaction.

  Belami was relieved to hear this tale. At least Elvira wasn’t using her wiles to con Pronto into a hasty marriage. “Perhaps she’s just shy of intimacy. Deirdre used to be at first. You’ll have to be gentle, persuasive. Don’t go leaping at her the minute you’re alone.”

  Pronto squinted suspiciously. “Who told you?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Not my fault there was a moon,” Pronto said. “I only ever have a minute. Have to leap if I want to get at her at all. I’m a bit of a passionate fellow, Dick. Might not think it to look at me, but when I’m with Elvira...” He speared the piece of beef and gazed at it with fond desire. Belami wasn’t sure whether it was the beef or an image of Elvira that brought that mooning look to Pronto’s face.

  “That’s probably the trouble. You have to do a deal of talking first with carefully raised ladies, Pronto.”

  “I’m not much of a hand at oiling around the ladies. I hear the native lads saying ‘Che bella!’ Seems to go down pretty well. I never knew I could speak Italian till I tried. What else should I say?”

  “I suggest you work your speech into a well-rounded paragraph. You remember from your grammar lessons—you need a topic sentence. ‘Che bella’ is fine for an introduction. A foreign language lends a touch of romance. Then you proceed coherently, starting with her hair and working your way down, compliment by compliment. You could stroke her hair gently as you tell her it’s like a raven’s wing, or black velvet, or whatever. Jewels make an acceptable simile for the eyes.”