Her eyes fluttered open.
His handsome face stared down at her.
“Everything’s all right,” he said softly, stroking her forehead. “I know what you saw was a terrible shock, but it’s a wonderful shock as well.”
“You mean... they weren’t ghosts? They’re alive. They’re truly alive and here?”
“Yes, my love, they’re truly alive. Are you ready to hug them and talk to them?”
“C-can I?” she managed, a wave of emotion sending copious tears down her face.
He shifted his body.
Standing behind him were her beloved parents.
“Mamma? Daddy?”
“Yes, my sweetheart,” her mother replied, moving quickly to sit on the edge of the mattress as Malcolm moved aside. “You weren’t supposed to see us until you’d been prepared.”
“But how? I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it,” Connie cried, throwing her arms around her mother’s neck. “How is this possible? Never mind. I don’t care. I don’t care. Daddy...?”
His heart overflowing with happiness, Malcolm stepped away as Arthur Clifford hugged his wife and daughter. Though Connie’s father had explained a smattering of what had happened, Malcolm had asked him to save the rest so he and Connie could listen to the full story together.
“Malcolm?”
Frank’s voice softly called from the door. Reluctantly walking across the room, they stepped into the hall to talk.
“Sorry, I’ve been dealing with a big mess outside.”
“I can see that,” Malcolm remarked, eyeing the detective’s soaked clothing, “but Frank! Why the blazes didn’t you tell me about Connie’s parents?”
“I couldn’t. There were too many lives at risk. I had to wait until the auction played itself out and all the culprits had been apprehended.”
“What’s going on?” Edward asked, running up to join them. “I’ve been looking for Connie everywhere.”
“She’s in there,” Malcolm replied, gesturing to the door, “and so are her mother and father.”
“What?”
“First things first,” Frank interjected solemnly. “David Manning is dead. Malcolm, I’m sorry to tell you this, but he was trampled by your horses. Something spooked them, and Manning ran out in front of the carriage as they were bolting down the street.”
“Oh, dear God. How’s Henry, the driver?”
“He was shaken up and won’t leave them, but Kendrick brought him out a cup of tea. My men are dealing with the removal of both bodies. I suggest we go downstairs, have a drink, and I’ll give you a brief summary of what happened with the Cliffords. I happen to know there’s a bottle of scotch in the kitchen, and we can use the champagne glasses.”
“That’s a great suggestion,” Malcolm agreed with a weary sigh. “Connie and her parents need to be alone for a while anyway. Frank—where’s the statue?”
“Right there,” he declared, pointing to the pouch sitting on the floor at his feet. “It’s not leaving my sight until I deliver it to the museum in the morning.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Sitting in the servants’ dining room, the statue out of its bag and in the middle of the table, Frank opened the bottle of scotch and poured it into three glasses.
“If I may,” Frank began, raising his drink. “Here’s to the close of this truly bizarre case.”
“To Connie, her parents and their return to the world,” Malcolm added.
“And to us!” Edward declared triumphantly. “We’re like the three musketeers.”
Clinking their glasses, they gulped down the hot liquor.
“I needed that,” Frank muttered.
“So did I,” Malcolm declared. “Okay, Frank, tell us about the Cliffords.”
“I’m happy to, but please hold your questions until I finish. I’m afraid I’ve been holding out on you. I am a detective, but I work in a special branch of Scotland Yard. I had overwhelming evidence against Poole for bribery, blackmail, theft, you name it, and I was on the verge of arresting him when the Statue of Kharute was stolen. I was immediately tasked to begin an investigation. A few days later I was in my office very late and heard the Cliffords had been murdered. I was already checking into the Egyptian Historical Society and I knew they were members. I didn’t believe for a moment their murders were coincidental. I left the office and arrived here at this house just as their bodies were being taken away. Then I saw Poole.”
“So you immediately suspected he was involved?”
“Let’s just say it crossed my mind. I went straight to the hospital to gather evidence from what I assumed would be the murder victims, but the couple were still alive, though barely. I immediately swore the staff involved to secrecy, then moved the Cliffords to a private sanatorium under assumed names. The next day I made sure their funeral would be held with closed caskets, but I can’t tell you how I did that. When I learned their daughter had been accused of their murder and had vanished, I knew Poole was deeply involved. That was his forte. He’d be a party to a crime, then set up a scapegoat. I desperately wanted to find Constance, not only to protect her, but to question her about what she’d seen that night.”
“This is incredible,” Edward exclaimed. “Frank, why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“I couldn’t. Lives were at stake. Security was of paramount importance.”
“But why were the Cliffords here tonight?” Malcolm asked.
“I haven’t finished yet.”
“Sorry. I forgot. No questions.”
“It was just recently they were well enough to tell me everything that happened, but I needed hard evidence as well as their testimony. Mountbatten and Roger Witherspoon had powerful friends, and Constance was still missing. Needless to say her parents were frantic to find her. Then, like a miracle, Edward told me about you.”
“And you met Connie!”
“And I met Connie,” Frank repeated. “You have no idea how relieved I was. When I told her parents she’d surfaced and you’d taken her in, they wanted to rush to your house, but that was out of the question. Connie had to remain hidden and her parents dead until Mountbatten and his group were apprehended, but all the pieces were finally coming together. When the auction came into play, they begged me to let them hide here, with Connie secreted away in another room. They wanted to be reunited the minute the auction was over. It was a terrible idea, and I refused, but unfortunately,” Frank said with a dramatic sigh, “this afternoon I received a message. They couldn’t wait another minute. If I didn’t make the arrangements they’d suggested, they were going to show up under their own steam.”
“That’s why you changed your mind about Connie being here!” Malcolm declared. “You had no choice. Now I see where she gets her determined nature.”
“Indeed,” Frank said, raising his eyebrows. “If she’d stayed in her room I would have told her everything at the end of the evening, then taken her down the hall.”
“Yes,” Malcolm murmured. “She and I will be having a talk about that.”
“Connie is extremely fortunate. If Mountbatten or one of his cronies had tracked her down, we would have been attending her funeral, and it would have been real.”
“Just how badly were the Cliffords hurt?” Edward asked.
“Let me put it like this. The doctors said their recovery was nothing short of a miracle, especially Connie’s father.”
Malcolm’s eyes fell on the priceless golden relic sitting in front of him.
If you hold the statue and have a loving, pure heart, it will bless you with great happiness and a long, prosperous life.
“You’ll probably get a whopping promotion finding the statue and closing this case,” Edward continued. “You’ll be hailed as a real life Sherlock Holmes.”
“I am up for a promotion,” Frank said hopefully, “but my competition is pretty stiff.”
“Frank, I predict you will have a meteoric rise to the top,” Malcolm said confidently.
“I’m not sure
there is such a thing at the Yard, but I appreciate your good wishes.”
“Goodness. What a story! What a night!” Edward exclaimed. “I must head off to see Edith. I promised I’d knock on her door with all the details no matter how late the hour. If I don’t, she’ll have my head.”
“Edward, have you ever held the statue?”
“I can’t say I have.”
“You should. This will probably be your only chance to have such a unique and priceless treasure in your hands.”
“Frank, do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Goodness, this is heavy,” Edward muttered as he picked it up. “I say, I’m getting a wonderfully warm feeling all through me.”
“I know what you mean,” Frank remarked. “I felt it too, almost as if it radiates heat.”
“I’d quite forgotten that,” Malcolm murmured, flashing back to the moment he’d lifted it from under the floorboards in the shed.
“Do you think it would be all right for me to pop my head in and see the Cliffords?” Edward asked, placing it back on the table. “We were quite close before all this happened.”
“I think they’d be delighted to see you,” Malcolm replied, “and I need a quick word with Frank. Why don’t you visit them, and I’ll meet you in the foyer?”
“Excellent. I won’t be long.”
“What’s on your mind, Malcolm?” Frank asked Edward as they left the room.
“Do I have your permission to drop off those notes tonight?”
“Ah, the notes. I’d almost forgotten. Definitely. Here are the addresses,” he said, removing his notebook from his jacket and tearing off a piece of paper.
“Terrific. Thank you,” Malcolm said, stuffing it in his pocket. “Is two o’clock tomorrow afternoon convenient for you?”
“It certainly is, and now I need to get back to my men and wrap things up,” Frank declared, rising to his feet. “Thanks for everything you’ve done, Malcolm. You’ve been invaluable.”
“No, Frank, thank you. Connie and I, and her parents too, owe you an enormous debt.”
Walking back to the foyer, Frank left to check on his men in the drawing room, and Malcolm began to climb the stairs, but spied Edward on the landing.
“How are they?” he asked as Edward trotted down to join him.
“Doing splendidly.”
“Do you want to take my carriage to Edith’s and send it back?”
“Actually, the rain seems to have stopped. It’s not far and I could use a walk. Uh, Malcolm,” he said, lowering his voice, “you probably already know this, but I’ve adored Edith for years.”
“Pretty hard to miss. You used to come by and visit all the time. I remember she’d keep you waiting forever.”
“Indeed,” Edward murmured, raising his eyebrows. “Happily those days are over. The thing is, since her father is no longer with us I feel obliged to speak to you.”
Malcolm smiled.
“I want to ask her to marry me. In fact, I’m not sure why, but I want to ask her this very night. I suppose, in a way, I’m asking for your permission. You’ve been the one looking out for her all these years.”
“Edward, you honor me. I’m quite beside myself. You have my deepest blessings.”
“Do you think she’ll say yes?”
“I know she’ll say yes, and you’ll have a long, prosperous, and happy life—provided you remind her she’s not the one wearing the trousers when she decides she is.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve already learned that about her. It’s been quite remarkable. Anyway, thank you, Malcolm. I promise to take excellent care of your sister. I know that’s how you see her.”
“Yes, it is, and I know you will. Goodnight, Edward.”
“Goodnight, Malcolm.”
As he turned and walked out the door, Malcolm felt heat in the back of his throat.
“What a good man you are, Edward. Edith is lucky to have found you. God bless you both.”
* * *
When the Cliffords told Malcolm they had booked a room at Claridges, he was adamant they stay at his house. Gratefully accepting his offer, they climbed into his carriage, and the tired, but happy group headed for home. Corbin and Mrs. Melville set about making them comfortable, while Malcolm excused himself and hurried into his study. Writing out the two short letters, he was sealing the envelopes when Connie’s father knocked on the door.
“Excuse me, Malcolm. I do hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all, sir. I’m very pleased you’re here. May I offer you a brandy?”
“No, thank you. My wife and I are exhausted and I must get back to her. I just wanted to shake your hand. Constance has told us everything you’ve done for her. How can I ever express my gratitude?”
“I believe it was fate that brought us together, and it was a joy and a privilege to help her. Tell me, has Constance told you about what happened at my country home?”
“The wedding?”
“Ah, so she has.”
“As far as I’m concerned, being married in the eyes of God is being married. You have done nothing improper. Under the circumstances I probably would have made the same choice.”
“Thank you for saying so,” Malcolm said gratefully. “We still wish to make it legal, and I’m looking forward to marrying her all over again, assuming I have your blessing of course.”
“You do indeed,” Arthur said earnestly, then pausing thoughtfully, he said, “There is just one thing. Margaret and I know you’re married, but the world doesn’t.”
“So when you move back into your own home, she needs to go with you for appearances’ sake.”
“You know how the tongues wag,” Arthur continued with a heavy frown. “I’m afraid if Connie were to stay with you before the wedding it would prove scandalous. I don’t wish to see Connie or her mother spoken of unkindly. The way you heroically sheltered her is a different matter.”
“I completely understand, and quite agree.”
“Thank you, Malcolm. I knew you would.”
“Arthur, there’s another matter I must bring to your attention. I’m about to deliver these letters.”
“At this hour?”
“They’re urgent, and they involve you, your wife, and Constance. When I began researching the theft of the Statue of Kharute, one of my first stops was the newspaper office. A young reporter by the name of Stephen Beaumont was extremely helpful. This first letter invites him here for an exclusive interview with Detective Frank Colby and me tomorrow afternoon at two p.m. It will be an official announcement exonerating Constance. The world will learn the truth of the wrongful accusation in tomorrow evening’s edition.”
“Malcolm, this is simply marvelous. Does she know?”
“I haven’t told her. All she knows is that I have a mysterious late night errand. I want it to be a surprise.”
“And the letter to the editor?”
“It will tell him about the interview I’m granting his newspaper, and my insistence that Stephen be the one to come here, not another reporter. I was very impressed with him, and I want to help launch his career, but there’s more. Tomorrow will only be the first of a series of articles about the whole sordid affair. Frank and I wish to expose Samuel Mountbatten and the rest of the evil people who not only stole the statue, but put your family through such a dreadful ordeal. Would you like to be involved?”
“I most certainly would. What an absolutely splendid idea. There’s no better way to get the word out than through the newspaper, and we can be sure the information is accurate.”
“Exactly. After everything your family has endured, I didn’t want the press running amok with all kinds of fabricated stories once your return from the dead becomes public.”
“Margaret will be so thrilled and relieved to hear this. Thank you, Malcolm, so very much, but I won’t hold you up another moment. Those letters must be delivered at once.”
“My lord—”
“Heavens, no. Please call me Art
hur.”
“Thank you,” Malcolm said with a smile, then took a breath and lowered his voice. “Arthur, I love your daughter, I love her with all my heart. Rest assured I will spend the rest of my days making her happy.”
“I know you do, and I know you will, but I should warn you, she can be a handful.”
“So can I,” Malcolm replied with a grin.
* * *
Setting off in the dark night, Malcolm slipped the messages under the doors of Stephen Beaumont and his editor, Charles Pickford. When he returned home the house was asleep, but Corbin had waited up.
“Congratulations, sir, on everything you managed to achieve,” the butler said as he helped Malcolm with his coat. “I’m sure the invitations to all sorts of dinners and parties will be pouring in.”
“I will go through them carefully with my wife,” Malcolm said, stifling a yawn. “I think you should have cook serve breakfast later than usual. Nine o’clock rather than eight.”
“Of course, sir. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Corbin, and thank you for your loyalty. You have been a rock through it all. You, and Mrs. Melville and Baker.”
“It’s been our pleasure, sir.”
Walking wearily up the stairs and down the hall, Malcolm ambled into his bedroom to find Connie fast asleep. Moving into his dressing room, he quickly peeled off his clothes, then crept back and slipped softly between the sheets.
“Malcolm,” she whispered, “I’m so glad you’re back. The bed felt so empty without you.”
As she snuggled next to him, he closed his eyes and breathed her in.
“God willing, there will never come a night we won’t sleep in each other’s arms.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Baron Clifford of Cloverdale and Wife Alive.
Daughter Falsely Accused.
Found Safe.
The following evening, the headline splashed across the front page of the newspaper captivated London. An astonishing interview with Detective Frank Colby was the main topic of conversation in both the elite and middle-class households. Restaurants and bars buzzed with the news of the extraordinary tale, and though the story was brief, it promised more to come in the days ahead. The gossipmongers talked endlessly about what new details might emerge.
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