by Joan Smith
I wouldn't even know how to spell the words that were uttered. Edmund I was coming to know for a prime blasphemer, but to hear Cummings curse like an Irish chairman was a shock. They pelted into the room, stuck their heads out the window, with myself following hot on their heels. There beneath the window lay a prostrate servant, with a welt on his temple. A poker lay at his side, the poker from the study grate.
We ran out of the house, around to the window to revive the servant. Edmund took into his head to give chase to the culprit, but it was too late. He had got clean away. The servant told us the man had raised the window to ask him a question. At a carefully arranged moment, Fortescue had whacked him on the head with the poker, knocked him unconscious, clambered out the window, and got away, without making a suspicious sound.
We returned to the study to see to closing the windows, and for a look around for clues. A pot of ink had been poured all over the desk, to drip onto a fine carpet. It appeared a senseless act of vandalism at first, till Edmund took a closer look.
“My gold inkpot! The son-of-a...” He was looking around the room, and soon noticing other missing objects. Besides the gold inkpot from the days of Queen Anne, a cherished family heirloom, Fortescue had got away with other bibelots. He mentioned a silver letter opener, a faience snuffbox and a broken, gold watch-chain, snaffled from a drawer.
I have never seen Edmund so angry, except perhaps when I made him empty his pockets for me at the inn at Devizes. “This does it!” he bellowed, his face assuming a liverish hue. “I'll catch that creeping reptile if I have to tear London apart brick by brick."
Without another word, he bolted out of the house. Glandower followed fast behind him. I think he was smiling. “An exciting day,” Weston said, mildly dismayed. “How's about a cup of tea, Lizzie? It will settle our nerves."
Chapter 16
The tea, I am bound to say, proved totally ineffective as a calmer of my nerves, though it settled Maisie and Weston down.
“What made you decide to come up to London, Weston?” she asked.
“The fact of the matter is, I had a falling out with young Cummings last time he was home. My own fault. I blame myself entirely. I have long been urging him to marry Lizzie. An ideal match in my view, but he was not agreeable to it. No reflection on yourself, Lizzie. He had some other girl in his eye all the while, as it turns out. When you arrived with your young man, I saw my plan was gone all awry. I wanted to make it up with him, so I came to London to see him. He had not told me about Miss Millington, you must know, or I would not have pushed Lizzie forward. My greatest concern was for him to settle down, and if he has found someone he likes, I am sure it will do admirably. They are to stay at Rusholme, of course,” he added happily.
“Do you know the girl? Have you met her?” Maisie asked, always interested in romantical doings, especially in the family.
“Certainly I know her. She lives not five miles from us. Glandower met her at a local assembly. A good family, not terribly well-to-grass, but more than respectable. The father is a solicitor, and the mother somewhat better. Her family is related to the Crossleys.” I had never heard the name of Crossley, but it was obviously meant to confirm the girl's gentility.
“Have you spoken to him about changing his name—the adoption, I mean?"
“Not yet. There is no rush on that score."
“When is the wedding to be?” I asked.
“He hasn't asked her yet. Still, he is in no doubt that she will have him. It will do the boy a world of good to get out of the city. Such acquaintances as this Fortescue would be the undoing of him. Now that it is out the scoundrel is a thief, it is no harm to say ten guineas were missing from a metal chest I keep in my room. I thought Glandower might have borrowed it and forgotten to tell me. Not that he has ever done so in the past, mind you, but he will sometimes ask for a little more than his allowance, and he did not on this visit."
“A little more” sounded a strange description of five thousand pounds. So did the word “borrow” seem inaccurate for stealing. It was a gauge of his affection for Glandower, that he should be so generous in his descriptions.
“Glandower will be a help to you at home,” I mentioned.
“He claims to know nothing of farming, but I will be happy to teach him. He is sharp as a tack, will pick it up in no time. It is almost like having a son of my own. I think he will agree to adoption. He is in a mood to agree to anything, since I have agreed to his offering for Miss Millington."
“That will be wonderful for you both. All three—I must not omit Miss Millington,” I complimented, while my mind tore through the streets of London in pursuit of Colonel Fortescue. I wondered what his true name was.
“Well, you have got the necklace back, Lizzie. Shall we have a look at it?” he asked soon.
It was held tightly in my hand. I did not lose track of it this time. I gave it over reluctantly. Anything that causes so much trouble is valued. I was extremely loathe to sell it, but our financial straits were as tight as ever.
He smiled fondly at the antique. “The price I mentioned...” he began tentatively.
"My price is not a sou less than four thousand, Uncle,” I cautioned.
“I was about to say three thousand is all I can see my way clear to paying at the present time. With the expense of the wedding, you know. The children will want a wedding trip, and a new mistress in the house will want to make some improvements. She will have modern ideas about fixing things up."
"Modern ideas at Rusholme?” Maisie asked, staring.
“In the kitchen and pantry, I mean. Naturally, she will not be hacking down the ancient timbers, or tearing out my fine old glass windows, but if she wants to make some improvements in the kitchen, she may do so with my blessing. Cook rants at me twice a week about conditions there. It looks fine to me, but the women like to be up-to-date in their housekeeping."
Of more concern to me was the reduced price for my heirloom. I reached out and took it back pretty quickly. “I am not interested in selling at that price,” I told him.
He let it go from his fingers, his eyes following it covetously. “Maybe in a year or two...” he said. “Expenses will be lower without the London apartment to keep up."
The relieved look on his face referred to gambling debts rather than the upkeep of a small apartment, but he wished to keep Glandower's sins beneath the cover. The boy was only foolishly immature, not bad.
“Let us wait and see,” I answered, slipping the necklace into my skirt pocket.
I became so restless, sitting and sipping tea when every fiber longed to be out with the men, that I arose and said I would take Mitzi for a walk. I got no farther than the corner when I saw Edmund's carriage wheeling down the street at a dangerously fast clip. Glandower was still with him. They spotted me from the window, and had the carriage checked. I grabbed Mitzi up and hopped in.
“Did you catch him?” I asked.
“Yes, the damned fool went to his hotel to pack up his bags and bolt out of town,” Edmund replied. “We knew where he stayed of course—Reddish's. I also got my inkpot and snuffbox. The bastard had already sold my letter opener, or stuck it into someone's back. If we read a report of such a murder weapon, we'll have him hanging from a gibbet. He is in custody now. The Runners feel this will solve a number of mysterious thefts that have plagued the city recently."
“Did you find out who he is?” was my next question.
“He's got so many aliases he keeps a list, along with what accent accompanies each character. I doubt if he remembers his real name himself. He is often a Scots squire. Douglas is the first name on his list, if that means anything. They want you to go down to Bow Street and file a complaint, Lizzie. Demmed unpleasant for you, but it must be done."
“Unpleasant? I look forward to it with the greatest relish!"
“What, ratting on the gallant Colonel Fortescue?” he roasted joyously, luxuriating in reminding me how I had misread the man's character. His face wore a look of
fiendish glee.
As we were within a block of his home, we had time for little conversation. Glandower tendered an apology for having brought this pest down on our heads.
“That's all right,” Edmund said magnanimously. “If it hadn't been for Lizzie losing her diamonds, we two would never have met, you know."
“Yes, we would,” I reminded him. “You knocked my carriage off the road before the theft."
“That is true, but there is no saying things would have worked out so well for us if you had not accused me of stealing the diamonds myself."
“I didn't realize your friendship was so new,” Glandower said. “The way you carry on—I mean, you act like very old friends."
“I am over thirty, and Liz admits to twenty-five, so can likely give me a few years,” Edmund answered playfully. “We are very old friends."
“We were acquaintances before the trip,” I said, lying again.
“Yes, we met over a year ago, when I bought some cattle from Westgate,” Edmund added. “Nothing like a good business deal to cement a relationship. But it was only after the accident we became close friends."
“It was an accident that made Miss Millington and myself realize how well we suited, too,” Glandower answered. His head was so full of his Miss Millington he only half heeded our conversation. He went on to speak of spilling wine on her gown at an assembly, and her ripping up at him, which in some mysterious manner caused her eyes to sparkle, and her hair to glow, and all sort of other incredible change occur in her appearance. He was in a sort of dream state, enthralled at how well his life was sorting itself out. Much better than my own. It would be back to Westgate for me, still in debt to my ears.
Maisie and Weston had to hear the tale of the chase, capture and eventual incarceration of the Colonel-Baron. Then it was Edmund's turn to hear of Glandower's bride's plans for the kitchens of Rusholme. Odd she had told Glandower so much, with never a positive offer from him. He even knew what brand of range she intended to install, and what sort of new chinaware she favored.
As it was getting late, Weston and his stepson remained to dinner, it being settled they would come to us in the morning to accompany us to Bow Street.
“After which we'll get straight on to Rusholme,” Weston said, with a blissful sigh.
Cummings's sigh was possibly even more than blissful. Ecstatic is not too highly colored a description of the look on his face.
“Plan an early wedding, do you?” Edmund asked.
“As early as Meg—Miss Millington—will countenance,” he answered. “When will you and Lizzie tie the knot?"
“I shall give you the same answer,” Edmund replied. “As soon as Lizzie will countenance."
Their questioning gaze turned to me, awaiting my decision. “We have not discussed the date yet,” I said.
“Don't wait too long,” Weston urged. “You're getting on, my girl.” He seemed to have forgotten he had not married himself till he was an old man. “Sir Edmund is no longer a stripling either, if you won't take my saying so amiss.
“Better late than never,” Edmund smiled lazily.
The company did not remain long after dinner. I felt happy to see them leave together, laughing and talking in perfect harmony, with the future shining brightly before them.
“I hope you're satisfied,” Maisie grumped. “You've done Jeremy out of his inheritance, and lost out on the sale of that dashed old necklace into the bargain. I for one am coming to hate the sight of it."
“I feel just the opposite. I am more fond of it,” I answered.
“Let's have a look at the alleged necklace,” Edmund said, holding out his hand.
I took it from my pocket and gave it to him. He observed it silently. “Put it on,” he ordered.
In the excitement of our afternoon and evening, we had not dressed for dinner. The jewel did not show to good advantage on a muslin gown, cut too high at the neck to do it justice. I went to the mirror, folded back my collar, and modeled the piece for them. The flickering lamplight made my image dark. The queen was back, her red crown sitting proudly. It quite took me back to that evening at Westgate, when I had seen her in the dining room mirror. It had been a strangely upsetting evening. It was Maisie's telling me about her crush on Beattie that had lent it an emotional tinge. That, and her wondering if I ever planned to wed. As I stood, looking and remembering, Edmund's head loomed up behind me in the mirror.
“Aren't you going to let us have a look?” he asked. We stood, looking at each other in the mirror.
“I've seen it a million times. I'm for bed,” Maisie said, still in her disgruntled mood. “Goodnight to both of you. Don't be late, Lizzie. We'll be leaving tomorrow, I suppose?” she asked Blount.
He did not answer immediately. “We'll see. Goodnight, Maisie."
She limped from the room, grumbling to herself. “What's got into her?” he asked.
“The new closeness between Cummings and Weston. Not a hope for Jeremy now."
“It doesn't bother you?"
“I came to terms with it long ago."
He nodded, hardly paying attention to my answer, to judge by the faraway look in his eyes. “Are you in a hurry to get home?” he asked.
“I should be getting back. You have mentioned more than once you must too."
I was not actually in so great a hurry I would not have objected to a few days gallivanting in the city. “I have an excellent steward,” he said. “You, I know, are not so fortunate in that respect."
“No, I certainly am not."
“I was thinking—tell me if you dislike it. I could stop off a day or two at Westgate and look the place over for you. Perhaps recommend some improvements to your operation. I don't mean to boast, but my farm is considered one of the more outstanding in the neighborhood. I told your uncle I would see to hiring a new steward for you. I would be perfectly willing to do it."
“That is an untoward imposition on your time and goodwill,” I replied, disappointed at his reason for visiting us.
“Yes but imposing on my time and humor have not prevented you from taking advantage of me in the past,” he pointed out.
“Kind of you to offer, but it is not necessary. We'll manage."
“As you like,” he said at once, his face assuming a stiff-as-starch look. “There is nothing more to be said then, is there?” was his next indifferent statement, with a quick look towards the head-and-shoulders clock. “Eleven o'clock already. I expect you are eager to get to bed."
“I was about to suggest it,” I was obliged to reply.
“I shall say good evening to you now. As we are leaving tomorrow, I plan to have a night on the town. I hope you will sleep well."
He walked swiftly from the room, mounted the stairs two or three at a time in his haste to get into proper clothing for seducing members of the muslin company. That was his reason for going out. I knew it, and believe he told me his plans on purpose to upset me.
I waited till I heard his bedroom door slam before leaving the saloon and going to my own room.
It was no queen who glared back at me from my mirror, but a thoroughly annoyed spinster. I wrenched so hard at my necklace I bruised my neck.
Chapter 17
It was difficult to judge by Blount's glowering face across from us at the breakfast table whether his outing had been successful or not. It could have been simple fatigue that lent that sullen line to his mouth and kindling spark to his eyes, or it could have been frustration.
“I hope you ladies enjoyed a good night's rest,” he said, making an effort at civility for my aunt's sake. Had we been alone, I don't believe he would have bothered to even nod.
“I slept like a top,” I assured him.
“I didn't. It's hard to sleep in a strange bed,” Maisie said. “I'll be happy to get home. Have you decided when we are to leave, Edmund?"
“As soon as we have returned from Bow Street."
“Good. God only knows what Berrigan has destroyed in our absence. At least the
re's nothing left for him to cut down. You must replace him as soon as we are home, Lizzie."
This speech set Edmund to scowling harder than ever. I interpreted his accusing stare as disapproval of my not accepting his offer to perform this chore for us. “Try if you can find someone who realizes infected cattle are not to be sold,” was his cheerful comment.
“For God's sake eat your raw meat, before you bite our heads off,” I snipped back.
“I do not feel like eating today. I shall have a cup of coffee."
While we, Maisie and I, picked at our breakfast and Edmund took an occasional sip of his drink, there was a knock at the door. I expected it would be Weston and Glandower. I could not imagine what was afoot when Jeremy was shown in.
“What on earth brings you here?” I demanded.
“I learned from Aunt Maisie where you were staying,” he answered, with a challenging look towards Edmund.
“This is my brother,” I told our host. He nodded, with very little interest.
“I wrote him of our adventure,” Maisie explained. “Gracious, I didn't expect you to come all the way to London, Jeremy. That was not necessary."
“I am surprised you did bother to come,” I added, as I was cross with Edmund, and felt like taking it out on someone.
“When my sister is run off the road and injured by a ‘gentleman,’ when her diamond necklace mysteriously disappears while in his company, and most particularly when I hear she is masquerading as his fiancée, though he has no notion of marrying her, I feel it is time I come,” was his haughty reply, accompanied by a hard stare at Edmund, who looked back with his jaw dropped open.
“Well, if this doesn't beat all the rest!” Blount exclaimed, his voice high with incredulity.
“I would like to have a word with you in private, sir,” Jeremy continued, acting the noble protector. I wanted to throw my plate of bacon in his face.
“Don't be such a peagoose,” Maisie told him. “Sir Edmund has been very helpful to us."