Reluctant Bride

by Joan Smith

  “I hadn't planned to reembroider my handkerchiefs for one morning's use,” I told him.

  We spent a grueling morning trekking from shop to shop. They were too close together to bother with the carriage, and really too far apart to walk. Inquiring for one specific necklace did not save us from having to examine every other sort of jewel either. Anything in the shop that was more than ten years old was brought out for my delectation. Our travels were leading us to the east of the city.

  “Glandower lives on Downing Street,” I reminded Blount. “Let us return to that general vicinity at least."

  “He would be more likely to have peddled it farther from home,” he reminded.

  “No one has seen it. I begin to think he didn't sell it at all, but kept it to wear himself."

  “He must have needed the blunt desperately to have stolen it. If he needed the money, then he hawked the necklace. It is only a matter of time."

  “Time and place. Humor me, Edmund. Don't be so cruel to your blushing bride. Hire a cab and let us go back to civilization, try some of the shops close to Downing Street."

  “Are you tired?"

  “No, exhausted. These heeled slippers were not made for hiking, but sitting in a carriage."

  “I'll take you home and come back out this afternoon myself."

  “I require only a respite, not retirement."

  After repeated hectorings, I convinced him to hire a cab. “Let us dismount near Glandower's house, and try the places closest to it,” I suggested.

  The list of names and addresses was examined. The closest was not so very close. Instead of going to Downing Street, we were let off on the south end of Bond. The first shop we entered had been offered the necklace, but had not met the gentleman's price. A request for a description of “the gentleman” gave us a fair picture of Glandower. Tall, rather thin, young, with fair hair. A good-looking chap. “One would not have taken him for Polish,” the shopkeeper finished up casually.

  “Polish?” I asked, staring at this new twist.

  “The Polish ambassador's cousin was the man I refer to. The diamonds came into his family on the maternal side, grandmother, an Englishwoman. Baron Czarnkow is very sorry to have to part with it, but he is in the suds. Gambling."

  “You wouldn't know who he took it to after he left here?” Edmund asked, ignoring Glandower's new nationality and title.

  “I directed him to Newington. He handles more antiques than I do myself. There is not a great demand for antique jewelry. We do a better job on the stones nowadays. I have a very pretty..."

  “Thank you. My wife is determined on that particular necklace,” Edmund said, scanning his list for Newington's address.

  Newington had not met Baron Czarnkow's price either, but the man to whom he sent us was even then negotiating the deal. Not to say Mr. Anthony had the necklace in his shop, but he had made an offer which the Baron was graciously considering. Czarnkow had expressed some intention of returning soon.

  “So he hasn't sold it yet,” Edmund said, happy to have at least this atom of success to the morning's strenuous endeavors.

  “Or hasn't bothered to tell Mr. Anthony in any case,” I pointed out.

  Edmund turned around and darted back inside. When he came out, he was smiling. “Yesterday afternoon the Baron was still negotiating,” he announced triumphantly.

  “Good, then he has had only this morning to unload it. I hope he sleeps in late."

  “Gamblers usually do."

  “Shall we go directly to Downing Street then? Edmund—I think we ought to go to a magistrate and get a search warrant. Take a Runner with us, not give him a chance to hide it on us."

  He stopped walking. There in the middle of the street he began rubbing his chin and frowning. “That would make it so very public. Bring a scandal and disgrace down on his head. Not that I give a tinker's curse about that grinner of a Glandower, but your uncle deserves better."

  I sighed wearily, trying to decide on the best course, but one that left no chance of losing out on the necklace at this late point in our chase.

  “You are worn to a thread, Lizzie,” he said, examining my face. I am taking you home."

  “What are you going to do?"

  “Go to my bank. Traveling with you is very dear."

  “You are not going to buy the necklace!"

  “Oh, no, I am going to win it. He loses to everyone else at cards. Why not me? All I require is a stake, to set up a game."

  “You don't know him. How can you set up a game with a total stranger?"

  “Use your wits, Lady Blount. That is the last time you will hear the ugly name today. We are now not only unmarried, unengaged, but total strangers. Brace yourself for one final challenge. You and Maisie must go to him and tell him of the theft. Also let him know you have been touring the shops, to ensure his not selling the thing this afternoon. Discover his plans for the day and night, and I shall arrange to bump into him somewhere, and try for a game tonight."

  “Maisie was right. You are cagey."

  “Genius was the word used. I believe she exaggerated a little."

  “It is myself who ought to be a genius. How can I find out, on a mere social visit, what his plans are for the day? I can hardly subject him to a direct quiz without his becoming suspicious."

  “You could roll your big, bright eyes at him, Liz. Let him squire you somewhere or other, tell me the destination, and I shall undertake to be there. I'll scrape an acquaintance somehow, never fear."

  “Failing all else, you can always run him off the road. That results in delightful friendships, does it not?"

  “Delightful. We'll hail a cab and go to pick up Maisie. If you cannot charm Cummings into a date with you, be sure to discover what he plans to do instead. The two important points are to make sure he knows he cannot hawk the necklace, and to discover his plans. Under no circumstance are you to give my name or description, as I do not want him to know I have anything to do with you."

  I had removed my gloves and was trying to pull off his mother's ring. “I cannot get it off,” I said.

  “Do you think the Fates are trying to tell you something?"

  “Yes, that I was a fool to ever put it on in the first place. All this pulling is swelling my knuckle too. It is beginning to hurt."

  “Stop fiddling with it. Glandower won't notice it."

  A cab pulled up to us. We got in and went to Belgrave Square. Within minutes, Maisie and myself were being rushed out the door into Blount's own black carriage, which was considered safely anonymous enough to drive to Downing Street.

  “Come straight home after. I'll be waiting on thorns for my instructions,” Sir Edmund said, drawing out his watch to time us.

  “Put away your watch, Edmund. You will have an hour or more off the treadwheel. Relax."

  He looked confused. Relaxing was as alien to him as flying.

  Chapter 13

  My aunt and I were shown into Glandower Cummings's apartment by a general factotum wearing a green jacket and a pair of walleyes. It took a strong exertion of will power not to accuse the man on the spot. We were left to cool our heels in a very mediocre parlor while Glandower was called. I am pretty sure we had him roused out of his bed. When he came to us, not quite grinning but trying to look happy to see us, he had taken time to perform his toilette. He looked and smelled like a seven-day beau. The stench of Steak's lavender water was overpowering. So was his jacket. It was of blue Bath cloth, sporting four of the largest brass buttons ever seen outside of a circus. His blond curls sat in wanton disarray on his white forehead. His blue eyes were half closed. There was a certain wariness in his manner—the only indication he was guilty of anything.

  “Good morning, Glandower,” I said cheerfully. “You will be surprised to see us, when Uncle Weston told you we were to visit him."

  “What happened?” he asked, trying to contain his interest within decorous bounds, but already sounding worried.

  I told him my tale of stolen gems, say
ing nothing of either Sir Edmund or walleyed suspects. “We have concluded someone stole them and is trying to sell them here in London, so we spent our morning touring all the jewelry shops,” I said. “If the wretch did sell them, I shall get his description, and call in Bow Street."

  He expressed as much interest as he dared in the business. We discussed it for a while, then discussed other family matters, while I mentally framed questions that would discover his afternoon's plans.

  “We have had a very tedious morning. I think we have earned a little entertainment this afternoon. What do you suggest, Glandower?"

  “I am not fit for much,” Maisie said.

  “There is not much an unaccompanied lady can do by herself,” Glandower pointed out. “Will you accept my escort, Lizzie? I will be happy to show you around the town."

  “I'm sure you have more interesting things to do than squire me,” I told him, attempting a coquettish smile.

  “Not at all. I would be happy to be your escort."

  “All right then, but I think I should go to Bow Street first, and report my stolen goods,” I said, to watch him squirm.

  “Let me do it for you,” he volunteered with suspicious alacrity. “It is unpleasant work for a lady. I have all the details, and know precisely what the necklace looks like, so there is no problem in it."

  “Oh, would you?” I asked, batting my lashes furiously. Indeed he would! He was all manly protection and concern. As soon as he had done so, he would call for me and take me for a drive. The next question sent me stuttering.

  “What hotel are you staying at?” he asked.

  “Hotel?” I asked blankly.

  Maisie saved the day. “The Clarendon,” she answered quickly.

  “Excellent. I shall pick you up there in, say, an hour?"

  “Make it an hour and a half,” I said. “Where shall we go?” Edmund, of course, had to know this.

  “Where would you like to go? It is a fine day for a drive."

  The streets of the city offered little scope for Edmund to meet my escort. “Richmond Hill?” I suggested hesitantly.

  “That is fine with me. I haven't been there in an age."

  We had a glass of wine, and then our carriage was called. “I blush to tell Edmund he must hire us yet another room at a hotel,” I said, as we hastened back to Belgrave Square. “I have lost track of how much I owe him."

  “I don't believe he's counting,” she responded, with a sly smile.

  "You are an excellent cipherer, Auntie. You keep tabs for me."

  “Do I include the various rings he has given you?” she asked.

  “Oh, no, they were his own idea. Besides, they are only on loan."

  “You know, Liz, even if we get the necklace back, we will still be in the basket, with Weston not anxious to buy it at this time."

  “I wonder if Edmund would be interested to purchase it,” I said. It was only a passing thought, spoken aloud, but it brought her wrath down on my head.

  Edmund had luncheon awaiting when we returned home. “How did it go? Did you hook him?” he asked eagerly.

  “It was like stealing candy from a baby."

  “Or diamonds from Miss Braden,” he threw in, quite unnecessarily. “Where is the rendezvous to be?"

  “He is taking me to Richmond Hill,” I said, then sat wording my next speech more carefully. “Of course, I could not ask him to pick me up here. I could not mention your name."

  “Where are you meeting him?” he asked.

  “At the Clarendon Hotel. I told him we are putting up there. I hope it is not terribly expensive to hire a room for a day?"

  His dispirited sigh told me I was out in my hope. “The Pulteney is more expensive. How does it come you did not tell him the most expensive place in town?"

  “I didn't know which one that was."

  I received one of his hawk-like glares. “I'll take you over to the Clarendon after lunch. Maisie accompanies you?"

  “To the hotel, not on the drive. We are leaving very soon. We had better eat."

  There was little eaten by anyone save our host. His cook had been serving raw meat for too long. Even an order to have it well-done resulted in no more than a quick flash of our steak over a flame. I was too excited to enjoy food in any case. There was a delicious excitement in the charade that lay before us. I do not often leave Westgate, or want to, but I knew I would find its pleasures dull after this eventful interlude.

  We made a hasty meal, with Edmund's watch propped beside his cup for constant timing; an even hastier dash to the Clarendon, to get installed in a chamber about twenty minutes before Glandower tapped at the door. “Why must you always hurry so?” I asked him.

  “We wouldn't want to be late!" was the only answer he had.

  He was still in the room when Glandower's knock came at the door. He jumped into the clothespress to hide. Fortunately it held no clothing.

  “What time will you be back?” Maisie asked before we left. She would want to know how long she must sit in tedious quiet in the room, or perhaps she planned to return to Belgrave Square and wished to know at what time she must be back on the job.

  “Before dark,” Glandower answered vaguely.

  “Earlier than that, Auntie. By six,” I clarified, so she could make her plans accordingly.

  Cummings had a dashing sporting curricle with a mischievous team of grays harnessed up to it. He made some effort to be entertaining as we drove at a smart clip to Richmond Hill. He referred voluntarily to the matter of the stolen necklace.

  “I took time to dash to a few spots I know that buy used jewelry before I picked you up,” he told me. “One of them thinks he might have a line on the goods. I plan to go back to him tomorrow morning. If he has the necklace, I'll call in Bow Street, and let you know, of course."

  “You haven't been to Bow Street yet then?” I asked. I was surprised, not that he had not been, but that he admitted it.

  “I was halfway there, and then thought it might be faster to try my hand at a few shops I know. We can go to Bow Street now, if you like."

  I was beginning to have second thoughts about Glandower. It occurred to me he might have decided to turn honest, as the cards were not in his favor. Was it possible he meant to “discover” my necklace at a shop, and get it returned to me? I realized then that this was my hope. It was wretched of him to have stolen it, but Weston was building his life around the scoundrel, and I could not like to hurt an old man. I spoke a few harsh words of the reprisals awaiting anyone who ventured on a life of crime.

  “Such villains deserve the worst treatment. Whipping is too good for them,” he seconded me, with every appearance of sincerity.

  This morose pall lightened as we approached Richmond Hill. One would have to be an ascetic not to adore the spot, so charming with its gardens, water, and pavilions. We stopped halfway up the hill to view the Terrace Gardens, very pretty in the summer sunlight, though Glandower thought the flowers would be more profuse in the spring. After an examination of the Gardens and the mansions around us, we proceeded to the top of the hill. Cummings was not impressed by the Star and Garter Hotel, which alone was worth the trip in my estimation. It resembled some stately French chateau, and had a fancy Italian terraced garden too.

  I had not realized Richmond Park was such a large affair, much too enormous to be likely to bump into Edmund, with no fixed meeting place designated. There were thousands upon thousands of acres of water, parks, gardens, buildings, even a forest.

  “What do people usually go to see when they come here?” I asked, hoping to hear of some popular meeting spot, such as the barrier at Hyde Park.

  “Some of them take a boat out, some of them tour the Gardens, usually everyone ends up here, at the Star and Garter, sooner or later."

  In the normal way, I would have expected Edmund sooner, but as he was obliged to leave after us, he would not be here before us. “Let us roam around for a while, then come back later for a drink,” I suggested.

  We
strolled through the park to admire the rolling hills, the groves of oaks, the fern. The view from Broomfield Hill, also some of the other hills, was magnificent. Glandower told me that in the distance you could see as far as Surrey, Dorking Gap. It was not necessary for him to tell me it was also an extremely fatiguing pastime, climbing hills, for he had stabled his carriage at the hotel. After an hour of sightseeing, we had not begun to cover the area, but were ready for something to quench our thirst.

  As we walked and roamed, I found myself making the quite dreadful mistake of getting to know Glandower better than I had before, and liking him. He was truly trying to entertain me; he was sensitive to beauty, informed of the history of the place we visited. He seemed strangely wistful, which I interpreted as remorse of his guilty conscience.

  “It is beautiful. What a good time you must have, Glandower, living in London, with freedom and access to all these spots."

  “You tire of it after a while,” he said.

  “I suppose one does. Why do you not find something useful to do then? Make a career for yourself, if you are becoming bored."

  “I would like to. I am seeking work at Whitehall, but it does not pay well, you know, and besides I don't expect I will be much good at it."

  “Surely Uncle gives you an allowance."

  “Yes, oh, yes! He is very generous, but..."

  But he gambled it away. My pity lessened. “Your expenses as a bachelor cannot be great."

  “No, the thing is...” He stopped, becoming shy.

  “What is it?” I prodded gently.

  “The thing is, cousin, I would like not to be a bachelor. There is a girl I would like to marry. Miss Millington, from back home, but how could I support her?"

  “Why do you not take her to Rusholme?"

  “Rusholme?” he asked, startled. “I couldn't do that. Mr. Braden is only my stepfather. Since mama's death, I don't spend much time there. Duty visits only, to keep in touch. No, it would be presumptuous of me to land a wife in on him."

  “He would love it!"

  “No, really! I am not on such terms of intimacy with him that I could do anything of the sort. I shall keep looking for something in the city. Something that pays more than a hundred guineas per annum,” he said, but with a resigned to failure sort of a slump to his shoulders.