Lady Tinbough's Dilemma

by Clare Jayne

  “I found her a charming young lady and liked her a great deal,” Chiverton said before an argument could begin, “but McDonald might have a point about her not being a good match for you. You know nothing of books and those kind of intellectual pursuits – none of us do. Our lives are taken up in different ways which, very likely, would not appeal in the least to Miss Campbell.”

  Ewan wanted to resist this argument. It hurt to be considered feeble-minded, although he knew that was not what Chiverton had intended to imply. He himself felt like an idiot in all the things he was ignorant of, in comparison to Miss Campbell’s dedication to learning. When he had attended the university with her a couple of days ago he had only understood the tiniest fraction of the lectures they had listened to. In all likelihood she did need someone a great deal more learned than him but he liked her, although he still had no idea what her opinion of him was.

  They would probably agree it best to give up this theft investigation this afternoon and then he would see where that left him with her.

  “I need to get some sleep,” he told his friends, abruptly keen to be away from them. “I expect I will see you in a day or two.”

  Chiverton clapped him on the back in a bracing manner and they took their leave of each other.

  Chapter Nine

  “I FEAR our questioning of possible suspects last night did not go as well as it might have,” Ishbel said when Mr MacPherson came to collect her the afternoon after the ball. As she put on her gloves and hat in the hallway, she added, “I discovered nothing. Did you get anywhere?”

  “No, but I did have an interesting meeting with an extremely hostile Lord Tinbough and his son, both of whom believe the necklace has been lost rather than stolen.”

  “They could be right,” she said as the butler opened the door. As they walked out onto the steps, another less galling thought occurred to her: “Unless one of them had committed the theft and that was why they wanted us to stop looking into it.”

  “Why would a member of her family do such a thing?”

  “I am not sure but, if you recall, Harriette said that Lady Tinbough did not get along with her husband.”

  “Lord Tinbough’s attitude certainly seemed to confirm that. Why?”

  “Perhaps he took the necklace out of spite or pique.”

  Mr MacPherson helped her into his curricle then jumped up beside her. “I also met the Duke of Lothian who said nothing of the theft but is a serious gambler. I have no idea if he would be devious enough to commit such a crime but he should certainly remain a suspect.”

  “None of the women I spoke to showed any sign of guilt over the theft and I could think of no motive for them to have committed it. The Duke could be the culprit or someone who we have not yet thought of or the necklace might have simply been mislaid.”

  “This matter grows more convoluted by the day,” he said as he got the two large white horses connected to the equipage to break into a trot. “I am beginning to think we should consider telling Lady Tinbough that she must hire someone with knowledge of how to pursue such matters.”

  “The servants might well have seen something,” Ishbel said, not wanting to admit defeat so easily. It was a puzzle that she thought they ought to be able to solve. “They might at least be able to say whether Lady Tinbough often loses things.”

  “Let us find out,” he said with a smile. “When will you next visit the university?”

  “I attended four lectures this morning,” she said.

  He gave her a startled look. “You must have had to rise at a horrendously early hour.”

  “I breakfasted at seven-thirty as usual.” She did not see why this should astonish him so and wanted to ask what time he normally arose, but the question seemed overly familiar.

  “Do you think you will keep studying when you marry?” he asked, the question she had been asked at least two dozen times in the last few years sending a stab of irritation through her. He spoke more politely about it than many but the implication was still that she was wasting her time and would only fulfil her duties as a woman when she married and bore her husband a male heir. Some men had said the words outright.

  “I never intend to marry,” she said.

  “Why would you say such a thing?” he asked, turning a wide-eyed gaze on her.

  “I am happy in my current life and have no interest in giving it up.”

  “I see.”

  There, it was said. Now he would vanish from her life just as men in the past had. It was better if it happened soon since she had been starting to like him.

  They reached Lady Tinbough’s elegant home and Mr MacPherson took her hand to help her down from the high perch with his usual courtesy and no sign of anger or offence, of which she was glad. Sanders, the butler, was, of course, expecting them and had arranged for them to question all the staff together in the servants’ dining room. He led them down the hall past the drawing room, staircase, gaming room and parlour to a hidden staircase that took them down to the staff area which held the kitchen, pantry, butler and housekeeper’s offices and their destination, the staff dining room.

  Ishbel, who had been hoping to speak to people one at a time, looked at the dozens of people crammed into the room and had no idea where to start. She recognised Ann, the lady’s maid, from their previous visit and Sanders listed the names and jobs of everyone else, each of the servants bowing or curtsying when their names were said. Ishbel memorised Mrs Fraser, the housekeeper, and Mrs Thomson, the cook but lost track of the others.

  Sanders moved a chair back from the dining table for her to sit in and, thinking it might relax the staff if they were less formal, she sat down in it, Mr MacPherson sitting beside her, and she asked the staff to sit. There were less chairs than people so places were taken by the senior members of staff and a few of the indoor people.

  “As you know,” Mr MacPherson said to them, “Lady Tinbough has had an emerald necklace go missing. Naturally she does not believe any of you are to blame but she asked us to speak to you to find out if you saw anything helpful.”

  His diplomatic words had a noticeably calming effect and Ishbel was relieved. Some gentlemen – and ladies too – would have tried to coerce a confession out of these people and, knowing the kinds of difficulties working class people faced, Ishbel could not have allowed that.

  “Did any of you see a tradesman or visitor in Lady Tinbough’s bedchamber alone?” she asked and received blank looks and shaking heads.

  “Had we any idea of the culprit we would have told Her Ladyship when we learnt of the burglary,” the butler said with an expression that suggested he was embarrassed and distressed over the whole situation, his position as head of the servants and the person who oversaw any visiting tradesmen making it likely he blamed himself for what had happened. He was younger than her family’s butler, perhaps forty, but had an air of authority, although it was dimmed slightly by the current situation. She did not suspect a man in so good a job of the theft but thought he was probably the person who knew all the servants best, although if he had had any serious suspicions she believed he had spoken truthfully in saying he would have spoken to Lady Tinbough about them.

  “You mentioned a couple of tradesmen,” Mr MacPherson said. “Do you believe either of them could be the thief?”

  “I find it unlikely, sir. The chimney sweep boy is far too timid and well-behaved to dare do such a thing and the carpenter has visited the house countless times. Besides, neither of them would have any idea where Lady Tinbough kept her jewels.”

  That was a good point, Ishbel thought. “Is there anyone you do think a likely culprit?”

  “Certainly not the staff. I cannot imagine anyone except a professional thief daring to do such a thing.”

  There were a few nods at these words and no one else spoke up.

  “Is there any way a stranger could have got into the house without breaking in?” she asked.

  “No, Miss. It would be impossible for a stranger to get pas
t all of us unseen during the day and all the doors are locked at night.”

  That led them back to the beginning, with no idea who to suspect. She glanced hopelessly at Mr MacPherson who gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

  “Is there any way that this could not be a theft? Does Lady Tinbough ever lose items?”

  “No, Miss,” said Ann, the slender lady’s maid they had met on their last visit here, who was one of the youngest members of the staff. She blushed as she spoke and her quiet words were difficult to hear. “That is, Her Ladyship sometimes says ‘where is such-and-such?’ and it takes a few minutes to find something she’s put down in a different place, but I searched everywhere for the necklace. I checked through every drawer and jewel case in the room.”

  The housekeeper, an attractive woman of about thirty with an eloquent manner, said, “I helped Ann search the room again and Mr Sanders had the footmen go through the rest of the house.”

  “The necklace is nowhere in the house,” the butler agreed.

  “Is there anything else you want to ask?” she checked in an undertone with Mr MacPherson and, when he answered in the negative, she said aloud to the group, “We appreciate you all taking the time to speak to us and apologise for disrupting your day with this unpleasantness. Should any of you remember anything that might point at a suspect then I know you will inform Lady Tinbough or have a message sent to us.”

  As Sanders led them back up to the hall, Ishbel said to him, “Is there anyone in the staff you think could be capable of this? You may speak any concerns to us – we will certainly not accuse anyone without proof.”

  “I know all the servants, Miss Campbell, and I am certain none of them committed this crime.”

  She nodded. “I think it unlikely too. Thank you.”

  He opened the door for them and, as they got out onto the tree-lined street, Mr MacPherson turned to her and said, “I fear we must tell your cousin that we cannot continue with this. We have made no progress and, frankly, I would not have a clue what to do next.”

  She wondered if his words were entirely about the theft or whether her confession that her studying meant more to her than marriage was part of his desire to end his association with her. Either way, she had no right to waste any more of his time. She told herself she would be glad to put the matter behind her and get back to her education but, in truth, she disliked this sense of failure. He wanted it over, though, so there was nothing else to be done. “I will inform Harriette.”

  “I will accompany you,” he said.

  “You need not.”

  “I wish to,” he insisted, as chivalrous as ever and she felt a stab of unhappiness at the idea that this might be the last time she ever saw him.

  They returned to the Huntly house and found Harriette in the hot kitchen below-stairs, supervising the cooks as they made jam. Since Ishbel was confident that the cooks were more than capable of managing on their own – and would indeed be the happier for Harriette’s absence – she had no qualms in asking her cousin to come to the drawing room to speak with them. Mr MacPherson awaited them there and, at the sight of him, Harriette said, “Does this meeting mean that you have found the missing necklace?”

  “I fear not,” Mr MacPherson said and Ishbel fought back a sudden urge to stop him continuing. “Our questions have brought no answers...”

  “... No, the two of you merely seem to have offended a great many people.”

  Given Harriette’s propensity for being offensive, this was difficult to take and Ishbel did not want Mr MacPherson to have to face her cousin’s scorn. “Since we do not know how to conduct such an investigation,” Ishbel said, “it would clearly be better if Lady Tinbough hired someone professional to look into it.”

  “Very well. I had thought your self-proclaimed intellect and Mr MacPherson’s... well, whatever qualities he has... would have made this a simple task for you to accomplish. If it is so far beyond your abilities that you are beaten so quickly, then, as you say, Lady Tinbough will be forced to hire less trustworthy persons to do it.”

  She bestowed a look of contempt upon them both then swept out of the room.

  After a long mortifying silence, Mr MacPherson said, “I believe, should you be willing, that I wish to continue looking into the robbery.”

  “Yes. So do I.”

  Chapter Ten

  “WE SHOULD discuss what tactics to employ next,” Ewan said as he and Miss Campbell sat opposite each other in the drawing room of her house. Not only was he stung by Lady Huntly’s rebuke but he felt she had been monstrously unfair to Miss Campbell. The only solution to prevent Miss Campbell being subjected to further criticism was for them to solve the theft. Somehow.

  “I wish we had been able to speak to the servants individually,” she said with a furrowed brow. “I cannot believe no one saw anything of what happened. They might simply not have realised the importance of what they saw.”

  “They might speak more freely to someone of their own class,” he mused, an idea coming to him. “What if I sent my valet into the household on the pretext of seeking a job? He might have better luck than we did?”

  Her expression brightened. “That is an admirable notion.” She gave him a dimpled smile and his entire day was brightened.

  “I will return home and arrange it and Rabbie, my valet, can come here to let us know what he finds out.”

  “Would it not be easier for me to visit you to hear from him?”

  He stared at her, shocked she would suggest such a thing. “I am an unmarried man. It would ruin your reputation to come to my home.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said as if she had forgotten this fact. “I have a lecture to attend in half an hour but will be home in less than two hours then I will be in all evening so you and your valet may call any time then. Will you stay and have dinner here? Harriette and Lord Huntly will be here but they have no guests coming so it would be informal.”

  “I would be honoured,” he said and bowed to her. She gave a curtsy in response and he left the white-brick house. He wondered what kind of people her parents had been that they should have failed to make clear that it was vital her reputation be spotless. He shuddered to think of the kind of gossip and snubs she would have faced had she ever been seen at his home. A gentleman could survive such things – although he would have been labelled a cad for destroying a young lady’s reputation – but she would have been cut from fashionable society forever.

  He thought again of what she had said in the curricle about never wishing to marry. His instinctive reaction had been to assume she was being kind and had instead meant that she would never consider marrying him. Perhaps, however, she had been telling the exact truth and was unconcerned about other people’s opinions of her because she intended to remain a spinster. The whole idea bothered him: he was not yet sure that he wished to marry her but he certainly liked her better than any other woman he had ever met. Why would anyone – other than Chiverton and those of his inclinations – refuse the possibility of marriage? It made no sense to him, especially as Miss Campbell’s life, living in the harsh company of her cousin, must be far from paradise. Did not everyone want a companion to lean on and save them from loneliness?

  He was tempted to call at his aunt’s house and ask her about Miss Campbell’s background but that seemed a little underhand. While such a conversation was rather personal, Miss Campbell was sufficiently unconventional that he did not think she would take offence at his asking a little more about her reasons for wishing to stay unmarried.

  He rode his curricle round to the stable at the back of his house, left the horses to be taken care of by his groom and headed inside. As always, his butler, MacCuaig, met him in the hall to take his hat and gloves so he asked the older man, “Is Rabbie about? I want to ask him something.”

  MacCuaig frowned at the informal way he spoke of his valet. “I will send Camran to your room to serve you as you wish, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Ewan headed up the sweeping stairc
ase to the master bedchamber and selected evening clothes to change into later for when he called back at Miss Campbell’s house. He wondered how Lady Huntly would react to the news that her cousin had invited him for dinner there. He hoped she would not say anything unpleasant and upset Miss Campbell. Anything else. He was still smarting from her earlier put-down.

  Ewan turned at a sound behind him and found that his valet had arrived and was looking at the clothes laid on the bed.

  “Do you wish me to help you change, sir? It is a little early for formal wear.”

  “Those are for later. I am invited to dinner with Miss Campbell’s family. No, I wanted to talk about something more important than clothes.”

  Rabbie stopped short and stared at him. “More important?” he said in a quivery tone.

  Realising his blunder, Ewan corrected himself. “Of course one’s clothing is extremely important. What I meant to say was that this was something else equally important. I have a favour to ask.”

  Rabbie visibly relaxed and made an expansive gesture. “Anything, sir.”

  “It is about this robbery I am looking into...”

  “... Are you quite certain these people are not taking advantage of your kind nature with this business, sir? It does not seem like something you would willingly choose to do.”

  That was entirely accurate and, therefore, a question best avoided. “Do you think Miss Campbell and I cannot find the thief?”

  “I think it’s outside of the things you know about and could be dangerous.”

  “That is precisely why I cannot allow Miss Campbell to look into it alone.”

  Rabbie frowned. “It is certainly not fit work for a well brought up lady, sir, but that does not mean either of you should be involved in it. None of us would be happy if you were hurt. Nor if any more of your clothes were ruined.”