by Joan Smith
"Sir Edmund, did ye say?” Peoples confirmed.
“That is correct. Sir Edmund Blount, from Woldwood in Gloucester. You would be familiar with the name of course."
“Oh aye!” he said, vastly impressed. The blue eyes were all but popping. “But how do I know he's him?"
“Show him one of your cards, Sir Edmund,” I suggested.
Sir Edmund scowled again. He reluctantly drew out one of his cards. The constable took it, waved it a few moments in his fingers, like a fan, stuck it between his front teeth, chewed on it, then took his decision. “Lady Braden was your aunt's name, you said?” he asked.
“That is correct. The Countess of Braden, lady in waiting to her Majesty, Queen Charlotte. Gracious, I do hope it will not be necessary to pester her Majesty with this trifling business. If the Prince must be disturbed over this picayune affair, he will be out-of-reason cross,” I said, bombarding him with every great title I could lay tongue to.
“Oh, well, we won't be disturbing her Majesty,” the constable decided. Next he was struck down with a fit of chivalry. He bowed to me, very ceremoniously, nearly scraping the floor with his nose. When he came up, he said, “And ye would be willing to swear, if it came to court, that the squire landed the first blow."
“Categorically."
“Categorically,” he repeated, memorizing the word. He scratched the side of his head, considered for an important amount of time, jotted the word “categorically” down on a piece of paper and finally decreed. “I'll let Sir Edmund go then, in your custody, Lady Braden."
“Lady Braden?” I asked, raising my brows imperiously. “You are extremely ignorant, my good man. My aunt is Lady Braden. I am Lady Elizabeth."
“That's what I meant!” he said quickly, performing another bow.
“Come along, Sir Edmund,” I urged. “Be a good fellow, do, and don't lay a charge against that odious upstart squire."
The constable smiled invitingly. “It could be done with no trouble a-tall,” he volunteered.
Blount never showed a single trace of a smile throughout my performance. “It is up to you, Lady Elizabeth,” he said in a thin voice.
“We'll let him off with it this time. If his manners do not improve, however, we may reconsider the matter."
“About your alleged diamonds, your ladyship,” Peoples said. “That is—your diamonds."
“Are you quite sure you did not loan them to Princess Marie again, Lady Elizabeth?” Blount inquired.
“Perhaps I did. I'll ask her as soon as we get to London.” I picked up Blount's curled beaver from the desk, handed it to him, gave a curt nod to the constable and got out the door as fast as I could, while maintaining a noble quantity of dignity.
I was trembling when we got to the street. “Lady Elizabeth, eh?” was Blount's first comment.
“I borrowed the title to impress that toadeater. Why were you frowning behind his back? He would have let you out in a trice if you had pulled rank on him."
“I was not eager to have my name appear on a public record for assault and battery. Mr. Edmunds meant to pay a fine and leave."
“You are inordinately proud of the name. You would have had your carcass behind bars if you had remained Mr. Edmunds."
He placed his curled beaver on his head, brushed off his jacket with the back of his hands, lifted his chin to indicate I was to tag along and struck out at a long stride for the inn. “Any word on the alleged diamonds during my absence?” he asked.
“I left a few minutes after you. I haven't heard anything."
“You certainly placed me in an extremely embarrassing position, indicating Bingeman was a thief,” was his next cheerful speech.
“Sir Edmund, you know perfectly well you were the one who jumped to that conclusion!"
“Who else could it possibly have been?” he asked, in lieu of answering my charge.
“Anyone. Half the inn staff and customers poked their heads and bodies into that so-called private parlor. It could have been anyone."
“Your aunt mentioned a colonel. I believe he did more than poke his head in at the door. There was talk of rolling his eyes at you."
"He is the only decent soul I met. Colonel Fortescue—he was extremely helpful when Miss Belmont took a fainting spell. A veteran, wounded in the Peninsula. Certainly he had nothing to do with it. He would hardly have given me his name and destination, and expressed a hope to see me again..."
“I see it was not robbery he had in his mind, but flirtation."
“I'll never find my diamonds."
“You don't mean to give up?” he asked, coming to a dead halt in the middle of the street.
“No, of course not. I'll have the proprietor search the inn. Oh, but I know it is useless. There has been so much time to get rid of them, hide them I mean, whoever took them."
“How would anyone have known you carried them?” he asked, in a puzzled way.
“I don't suppose the thief did know. He probably snatched up my reticule looking for money, but when he saw a jewelry case, he opened it and took the jewelry instead. My money was not stolen."
“A regular pickpocket would have taken both."
“He didn't have much time, and there were a lot of people standing or milling about."
“A stupid thing to do, carry diamonds in your reticule. We'll go to the inn, quiz the proprietor. If nothing turns up there, I'll go back to where we collided and have a close search of the area where I found your reticule. They might have fallen to the ground."
“That is kind of you, but you are in a hurry. You mentioned you were going to a wedding."
“That is not important."
“Who is getting married?"
“My young brother."
“Your brother! You will not want to miss that!"
“He didn't expect me to attend. He knew I was against the match. I only decided at the last minute to go, which is why I was driving a little more recklessly than usual. They won't delay the ceremony on my account."
“Why were you against the match?” I asked, my interest rising. “Is there something amiss with the girl?"
“No, she is unexceptionable. Young, pretty, an heiress, well-born."
“Why are you against it then?” I asked.
“On general principles. I disapprove of marriage. Besides, poor Willie is too young."
I envisaged a teen-aged groom, and understood at last why he was averse to the wedding. “How old is Willie?"
“Twenty-seven."
“Twenty-seven?” I asked, my surprise showing in my voice. “How old must he be, before you consider him mature enough to make up his mind?"
“When he is old enough to decide against marriage, then he has reached the age of reason,” my companion answered firmly.
I could think of no sensible reply to such a piece of foolishness. “Did anyone know you were traveling with the necklace?” he asked in a sudden change of subject.
“No. Only my uncle from Fareham. Certainly he had nothing to do with it."
“You are on your way to visit him?"
“Yes."
“An accidental discovery and theft, then, as you mentioned. That will be difficult to trace."
“I don't expect you to waste your time helping me."
“I don't intend to. Waste my time, I mean. The accident is my fault, in part. My character has become involved willy-nilly. I must assist you. I have nothing better to do in any case, as I have missed poor Willie's wedding."
“You could be there in time for the party, even if you missed the ceremony."
“Would you prefer I not assist you? You will pardon my speaking quite frankly, Miss Braden, but from what I have seen of you and your aunt, I do not think your chances of recovering it without any assistance to be very great. In fact, they are negligible."
“What does that mean?"
“You have not an iota of sense between the pair of you. You carry a valuable set of diamonds loose in a reticule; you accuse me with no reason whats
oever of having stolen them; you go pelting down to the roundhouse spouting nonsense of queens and princes..."
“I got you out, didn't I?"
“It chanced the constable was unduly impressed with bad acting. Had he been a different sort of man and challenged your statements, you would have been revealed as a liar. Who would have believed your tale of missing diamonds after that?"
"Alleged diamonds,” I reminded him. “But really, you know, my business at the roundhouse had nothing to do with the theft. It was your slander and assault of Bingeman that took me. The alleged diamonds are irrelevant."
“It is an interesting thing, you know, so far as I am concerned, the diamonds are only an allegation. I have not seen them."
“You have seen the box! I would not carry an empty box around with me in my reticule."
“Why not? You carry everything else, to say nothing of traveling with that pugnacious pug. But this is pointless bickering,” he said, making an effort to control his vile temper. “We shall go to the inn to see how your aunt goes on, then proceed as I mentioned earlier."
We did just that, all of it at top speed. There is something about a bad-tempered person that causes him to act quickly. Sir Edmund walked, talked and acted very fast. I had time to catch my breath at one point. After he had thoroughly quizzed the innkeeper, who had done some quizzing and searching himself during our absence, he was convinced the man knew nothing.
Sir Edmund then hired a carriage and team and returned to the scene of the accident to search the ditch and environs. Maisie and I had a cup of tea while he was gone, and I rested. Before long he was back, still going at top speed. The proprietor came into the parlor behind him, shaking his grizzled head.
“Bad publicity for me,” he said. “First a gold watch, then a diamond necklace. Folks will be afraid to come to me."
The three of us turned on him as one to demand an explanation for the gold watch. “Why, this very same morning a customer of mine had a gold watch lifted from his pocket. It happened while the excitement of the accident was going forth, we figured,” he told us. “I made sure you knew. Everyone was talking about it, but the one lady was here alone in the parlor, and you two were—out. That is how it comes you didn't hear. The victim figures he's got a line on the fellow who did it. Another customer thought the lad in the green jacket was acting odd-like, bumping into folks and taking his time about disengaging himself."
“You mean to tell us you had a pickpocket at the inn, and didn't bother to tell us till now!” Sir Edmund howled, nonplussed.
“I was sure you knew."
“I know who you mean!” Maisie declared, starting up from the sofa, but soon returning to her seat. “The green jacket—I saw the fellow right here in this room. I noticed him in particular, a funny, rolling eye he had in his head, walleyed, like Blossom, Lizzie.” Blossom is one of our milchers, who is afflicted with a rolling eye.
“That's the one,” the proprietor told her.
“Who was the other victim?” Blount asked.
“His name was Colonel Fortescue. A very nice-seeming gentleman. He stopped off last night, was waiting to meet someone, but his party did not arrive. He's been watching the roads all morning. I believe it was his sister who was to come."
“Oh the colonel, Maisie!” I exclaimed. “What a pity. Imagine robbing a wounded veteran."
More to the point, Blount said, “You mentioned someone had a line on the fellow. Where did he go?"
“He straddled a rattler to Winchester,” the owner answered readily. “Colonel Fortescue was told the lad was seen running toward the coaching office. He went after him and learned he bought a ticket to Winchester. He came back and told me of the lad's destination, in case anyone else discovered a watch or money missing."
“Why the devil didn't you tell us this hours ago?” Blount demanded.
“I didn't know the pickpocket was in this parlor! How should I? I thought the young lady likely dropped her diamonds at the accident. If you could have found them there—well, I am not eager to have so many thefts occur at my Rose and Thistle, Sir Edmund."
Sir Edmund bestowed a few unflattering epithets on the man, but was too impatient to do him justice. “Tote up my bill. Hurry!"
“Are you going after him?” Maisie asked Blount.
“Of course we are. Can you make it to my carriage, Miss Belmont?"
I did not think she was up to it, but she knew well enough I would go, and had no idea of letting me go off alone with Blount. She had her bonnet tied on her head before you could shake a stick, while I grabbed Mitzi up into my arms for a hasty exit. Blount's valet came to us, and was given instructions for the repair of our various carriages and the care of our nags. His groom was to be our driver. A wad of bills was stuffed into his hands, the whole affair done with the utmost haste and carelessness.
“Keep your eyes wide open here,” Blount instructed the man. “If you see anything of a walleyed bastard in a green jacket, nab him. Frisk him, and don't let him away. He's stolen this lady's diamond necklace. But it's not likely he'll show his phiz back here."
“Can't I go with you?” the man asked.
“Not this time. You are needed here. I'll be in touch with you. Come along, ladies."
I felt a rising excitement, almost a joy, in the chase to come and the possibility of recovering my diamonds. I didn't forget them this time. Sir Edmund put a hand under both Maisie's and my elbows, one of us on either side of him, and rushed us out the door, while Mitzi hissed and spat at him. You would think we were headed to a fire, to hear Blount order the coachman to spring ‘em, and keep his whip out.
Chapter 4
Despite Blount's cavalier dismissal of his brother's wedding, I took the idea it was preying on his mind, as we careened down the roads at a precarious speed. He kept glancing at his watch, frowning, drumming his fingers on his knees and showing other signs of stressful thought.
“Do you think we'll overtake the stage?” Maisie asked him.
“We might,” he answered indifferently, then looked at his watch again. “The thing is done by now,” he announced sadly. “The wedding. Poor Willie is shackled, a tenant for life."
“Who is that, Sir Edmund?” Maisie asked. She was told in a few clipped phrases the awful fate of Willie Blount.
“You are against marriage, are you?” she asked, with some interest.
“Naturally,” he replied, astonished at her question.
Mitzi's dislike of Blount continued as the trip progressed. Having shimmied down from my lap to hold her paws against the window, she chose that moment to taste Sir Edmund's boots. He raised a hand to cuff her away. I rescued her in the nick of time, pulled her back on my lap while she wiggled in resistance.
“You and Lizzie are alike in that respect,” Maisie informed Blount. “Being against marriage, I mean."
“Lizzie? You refer to Miss Braden?” he verified, though he must have heard her call me so a dozen times that morning.
“Elizabeth is my name,” I said, with a repressive stare at Maisie, who knows I hate Lizzie, such a common, vulgar-sounding name.
“I had not realized, from your comments about my brother's match, that you were against marriage,” he said to me. “Most ladies think it the reason they were put on the earth, to trap some fellow and make him their reason for living."
“I am much too selfish for that,” I answered.
“Aye, she accepted the dog, but turned the gentleman down flat,” Maisie told him, shaking her head at Mitzi. “Her last suitor made her a present of her pug."
“No doubt you made a wise choice,” was Sir Edmund's only comment. He was not curious enough to inquire for the suitor's name. E'er long, his bad temper resurfaced, to be vented on the poor springing of the hired carriage, the inferior speed and uneven gait of the team, the condition of the roads and finally on the state of his stomach.
“We shall stop for luncheon at Andover,” he decided, “and see if we cannot get a better team while there. Thes
e old jades are ready for the pound.” He hired a private parlor, and requested me to order his and our own luncheon while he went to select the team for the next lap. In the interest of a peaceful meal, I left Mitzi with the groom.
“What would you like to eat?” I asked him.
“Beefsteak and ale."
“Anything else?"
“That is all I ever eat. Have it three times a day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner."
“How very unimaginative!” I exclaimed, meaning no offense, but only blurting out the truth. He made some monosyllabic comment, which I did not quite hear, nor did I ask him to repeat it, for he looked cross.
His spirits had improved when he returned. “I have borrowed a prime pair of grays from a friend I met at the stable. They have not gone above two miles, fresh as rain. He planned to leave them here overnight. We'll have a comfortable drive the rest of the way."
The ale too was to his liking. He became so sociable while we awaited our food I thought for a moment he was going to smile. “Paying a family visit to Fareham, are you, ladies?"
“Partly visit, partly business,” I answered. “I was taking my necklace to sell to my uncle. They are interesting antiques, having come to my family directly from Queen Elizabeth hundreds of years ago."
“Show him the box,” Maisie suggested, which I did.
He was mildly interested in the story. “Why on earth would you sell such a rare family treasure?” he asked. “These must be priceless to you, for sentimental, historical reasons alone."
“Uncle Weston is the real historian of the family,” I answered, not wishing to stress our financial position. “He has been after them any time these twenty years."
“He likes them so well he had a copy made up a decade ago,” Maisie rattled on. “He has all manner of artifact from those ancient times. In fact, his whole house is an antique. So is he. The windows in the place are of such old glass you can't see a thing through them—everything is blurred and uneven. The lawn looks like a pitching green lake."
“I prefer modern architecture myself. So you capitulated, Miss Braden, and decided to sell him the diamonds. I hope you got a good price out of him.
“Of course,” I said briefly.