In My Lady's Chamber

by Laura Matthews

  The conversation at dinner was mundane, but James sensed a suppressed excitement. He had a gambler’s instincts and could almost smell the undercurrent of animation that, in opposing card players, would indicate a winning hand. Since James had spent the day uselessly digging at the boundary and had determined that any more effort would be wasted, his mind was already concentrated on the Heythrop family treasure. Added to this was his knowledge that the children, under the governess’s leadership, were also hunting for the lost inheritance.

  Could they possibly have found it? No, he thought not. Lady Charlotte sat at dinner completely bemused, but it was the dreamy sort of enchantment caused by love, not by a valuable discovery, James thought sardonically. Miss Tremere was as placidly entertaining as always, but Lady Eastwick was distracted. Steyne pointedly asked James if he could be ready to leave in the morning, as there were matters he should attend to in town.

  That in itself was strange, James thought, as Steyne had shown not the least hurry the previous evening. James was convinced that it was an effort to get him away from Charton Court.

  And there was Edward. During the meal he took little part in the discussion, his eyes often lingering unseeing on some innocuous object, his teeth unconsciously chewing on his lower lip.

  Yes, decidedly something was afoot, and James had every intention of finding out what it was. The evening progressed almost as though it were a parody of a country house gathering—a little music, a little singing, a little polite conversation, some cards. And yet everyone watched him; circumspectly, of course, but they would glance in his direction as though trying to read his mind, to uncover any suspicions. At dinner he had agreed to leave the next day, which had obviously relieved his hospitable family, but he felt they still regarded him as a threat. The conviction grew on him that they knew he was hunting for the treasure—and they half expected that he might somehow find it before he left.

  Now, if they were aware of his digging, they must be aware that he was not going to find it there, so they must think he could find it somewhere else. And the somewhere else had to be in the house—the Long Gallery, to be precise. Why else would Edward have acted so strangely? James determined to pay a visit there as soon as the household settled down for the night.

  Several other people had come to the same conclusion. Edward was determined to be the one to unlock the secret compartment. It was a matter of pride with him, but as he was forced to admit to himself, it was also the excitement of the hunt, the challenge of the centuries-old mystery. Once he had discovered how to open the medallion, he would pretend that he hadn’t and give the children a chance for the same sense of accomplishment. They had been working hard on their project with Miss Tremere and they deserved their reward. Perhaps the secret had once only been passed to the eldest son but Edward wanted his brothers and sisters to share the family legend. Not once did he bother to ask himself how his father would have viewed the situation. This time he knew he was right, but he also knew he had no intention of telling them until his Uncle James had left.

  As Theodosia waited to accompany Charlotte to her room, Steyne approached her. He had said earlier that he wished to speak with her, and she expected him to suggest another meeting on the balcony, or in her chamber. Instead he asked, “Do you have the belt buckle Lady Eastwick procured for the children to find?”

  “No. I’m to ask her for it when I need it.”

  “Will you do that now? I can come to your room to get it.”

  Charlotte had already finished bidding her mother, brother and uncle good night. There was no opportunity to question him. Theodosia nodded.

  She found him awaiting her in her room when she arrived there some little time later, having seen Charlotte to her room and then retraced her steps to Lady Eastwick’s chamber in another wing. Fortunately her employer had not questioned her request, since Theodosia had no idea how she would have answered. Steyne rose as she entered.

  "I haven’t time to explain now, my dear,” he said as she held it out to him, "but I will as soon as I can. Promise me you won’t wander around tonight.”

  "Very well. I’m not really in the habit of wandering, you know."

  Just for a moment he read anxiety in the wide brown eyes and he touched a finger to her cheek. "There's no danger, you know. James isn’t desperate; he’s merely greedy and amoral. I’ll speak with you later.”

  Theodosia stared at the door after he had left. Actually she had little fear for Steyne’s safety. He was James’ superior in intellect, and probably strength as well. It was not fear for him which had shown in her eyes; it was for herself. Theodosia was indeed at peace with herself, or had thought she was. Years ago she had accepted that Steyne would hold no place in her life, though he always would in her heart. She had been able to bear this knowledge by rationally pointing out to herself that they were not well suited.

  Both had a willfulness which caused them to grate on one another, and a stubbornness which did not allow for acceptance of the other’s rigid determination. But in these last few days they had been reaching out, attempting to find new ground on which to meet, to compromise. They had, perhaps for the first time, begun to understand each other, and to admire what they understood.

  Now, when Theodosia had begun to experience an aching longing to continue their companionship, he had deliberately terminated his visit, proposed that he and James leave for London in the morning. Oh, she could understand that he wanted James away from the family while they attempted to discover the medallion’s secret, but he had not taken the chance to say even a few words to her about where they stood.

  During the first part of his visit he had indicated that if she thought he was willing to take up where they left off, she was tragically mistaken. Then he had seemed to soften in his adamant stance, to accept her as she was and leave the anger and hurt behind. Was that all? Had he meant nothing when he called her "my sweet” the previous evening? He had thought she was having delusions and he had treated her gently, like a child. Had he not spoken of Amy as a "sweetheart”? But in his eyes, in his touch, Theodosia thought she had read something more.

  A horrid thought occurred to her: What if he were already engaged to someone else? Would he have told her? At some point he should marry; he had thought her married. A shudder shook her narrow shoulders. It was possible that that was what he had to tell her, and not that he wished to renew their romance. Well, she would manage to handle it, no matter how devastating. Theodosia was an eminently practical young woman. But if she remembered, as she brushed her teeth, how he had sat and watched her a few nights previously, who can blame her?

  * * * *

  To Steyne it was obvious that somehow James had a suspicion about the Long Gallery. He had not been there when James first entered, but he was familiar with the calculating look which James had worn for the remainder of the evening. It seemed perfectly possible to him that James had overheard some conversation, or observed them in the Long Gallery when they were not aware of his presence. Because Steyne knew that James would wait until the household had settled down for the night before he began prowling, Steyne had taken the precaution of slipping the footman a crown to patrol the main hall until he had the opportunity to do his own exploring.

  When he left Theodosia’s room, Steyne made his way through the dark corridors to Edward’s. He knew that Edward was in the East Wing but he was not at all sure which suite he had, though the young man had indicated it to be in the rear. Steyne had no wish to tap at Lady Eastwick’s door by mistake. Fortunately, as he was contemplating the various possibilities, Edward emerged stealthily from the farthest door. His surprise on being confronted by Steyne nearly caused him to drop his candle.

  “Were you looking for me?” he asked, confused.

  “Yes, but I wasn’t sure which was your room.” Steyne motioned toward his door. “Can we speak in private for a moment?”

  Edward led the way and closed the door after them, impatient to be on with his search but un
willing to dismiss Steyne on some weak pretext. Though he offered the viscount a chair, Steyne remained standing.

  "Edward, I’m convinced James intends to have one last crack at finding the treasure. He seems to know that it’s in the Long Gallery.”

  A flush rose in Edward’s pale cheeks. “You think he knows? I was tapping at the medallion when he came in before dinner. I never expected him! You know he’s hardly eaten a meal with us since he came.”

  “Very true. Still,” Steyne mused, “I think it would be a good idea to let him find it.”

  His host regarded him with astonishment, his jaw dropping ludicrously. “You cannot be serious!”

  “Not until we’ve found and replaced it, of course.” Steyne produced the Roman belt buckle which shone dully in the candlelight. “This is an artifact which Miss Tremere and your mother have arranged to allow the children to find, in the event the treasure eluded them. I propose that we see if we can locate the real one, remove it and put this in its place. It’s of minimal value. I am hoping that James won’t bother to take it, and that you needn’t worry in future that he will pay the least heed to your family treasure.”

  “What if we can’t find it?”

  “Edward, my dear fellow,” Steyne drawled, “if you and I can’t find it, I’m sure James can’t.”

  His companion laughed. “Then let’s get on with it.” The footman, Parker, was still situated in the hall, seated in a porter’s chair and reading the latest London paper. Edward stared at this unprecedented activity and Steyne explained as the footman hastily rose. “James isn’t likely to come down while there’s someone in the hall. If Parker sits here until we’re through, I think we’ll be uninterrupted.”

  The plan would not have occurred to Edward. He was not, after all, accustomed to worrying about being interrupted in his own home, but he could see its value and said, “If you will continue visible for another half hour or so, Parker, I would very much appreciate it.”

  Mystified, but willing, Parker returned to his reading as the two men entered the Long Gallery. Steyne lit a branch of candles and brought them close to the paneled wall. The series of wooden medallions was slightly below eye level with panels above and below. There were recurring patterns of shields and geometric designs, but no one detail stood out.

  When Steyne stood back to view the overall effect, it was the simple oak leaf and acorn border which ran below that caught his eye. This border was too low to draw attention in the ordinary course of observation, hidden as it often was by assorted chairs and tables pushed back toward the wall. In height it was about a foot from the floor—precisely where the plaque was located in the chapel! The oak leaf insignia, too, appeared significant. Steyne had noticed that day when he and Thomas observed James digging, that all along the boundary of Charton Court lands there were oak trees planted at intervals of perhaps fifty feet. “Be guided by faith and our grant lands,” he murmured. An effort had been made even here in the Long Gallery to adhere to the poem.

  Edward had begun to poke at the medallion once again, but at Steyne’s comment stood back to view the wall as the viscount was. “Do you think that’s still important if the treasure is here in the house? I mean, what is there really in the chapel except the plaque?” When Steyne made no comment, but continued to stare at the lower panels, Edward had the uncomfortable feeling that he was missing something. The only really unusual thing about the plaque, of course, was how low it had been mounted on the wall, but at the same height here there was merely a pleasant carved border. He had not looked very closely at it, but now crouched to study the oak leaf and acorn border. Puzzled, he glanced up at Steyne.

  “I noticed today that there were oak trees planted along the boundary where James was digging. Is that typical of the whole of the estate?” Steyne asked, not moving from his vantage point.

  “Yes, they’re all along the boundary. Oh, I see!” Edward exclaimed. “The height and the oak border. Rather a tenuous connection, but possible.”

  Choosing the section of border directly beneath the battlefield medallion he tapped and pressed to no effect until he discovered that one of the acorns turned. In his excitement he assumed that this would be the solution and jumped to his feet, reaching for the medallion. But nothing happened.

  “The other acorns . . .” Steyne suggested.

  Embarrassed by his eagerness, Edward crouched once again and found that, sure enough, all four of them turned. There was a clicking sound followed by a grating screech as the medallion swung back above his head. Edward stared at it as though hypnotized until Steyne handed him the branch of candles.

  His hand shook as he held it to the small, lead-lined recess which was revealed. Within there rested a golden bowl on a base, gleaming in the flickering candlelight. How extraordinary to know that he was gazing on an item which had not been seen by anyone for several centuries

  Here, too, there was a battle scene, raised from the surface of the bowl. In the dancing light it was impossible to read the Latin inscription, but he ran his fingers lovingly over the surface. In an awed voice he said, “The illustrious treasure—found at last. My father will be delighted.”

  Since Edward was obviously lost in the wonder of it all, Steyne found it necessary to recall his attention to the present. “We had best remove it quickly and allow James his chance to discover the buckle. I would suggest for the time being that we place it in the writing room, so there’s no chance of his seeing us leave here with it.”

  His mundane tone brought Edward abruptly back to earth. The very thought of James so much as setting eyes on the golden bowl made his blood heat uncomfortably. Steyne placed the buckle Lady Eastwick’s sister had sent in the recess, while Edward cradled the bowl in his arms. The medallion snapped back into place with a satisfying click and Steyne extinguished all but his own candle, setting the candelabra back on the mantel where he had found it. Edward followed him into the writing room and reluctantly allowed the bowl to be placed inside a desk. Leaving the door slightly ajar, they retraced their footsteps to the hall where the footman was sleepily scratching his head.

  “Did anyone come to the head of the stairs?” Steyne asked quietly.

  Parker looked puzzled. “I thought someone was there—twice—but no one came down, my lord.”

  “Excellent.” Steyne slipped a crown into his hand. "Thank you.”

  “That will be all,” Edward informed the footman. “Good night, Parker.”

  At the head of the stairs the two men parted, each heading for his own room, but they had agreed to meet in the writing room in fifteen minutes. Steyne reached his own door without encountering James, and he stepped inside to wait. Only a few minutes passed before he heard a whisper of sound in the hall, nothing particularly distinguishable but enough to tell him that James had likely left his room. When a sufficient interval had passed he let himself out again and made his way to the writing room without the benefit of a candle. He found Edward there before him, bending over the desk to check that the golden bowl had not managed to disappear in his absence. Edward touched it with reverent hands but determinedly closed the desk after a moment, joining Steyne at the door where a gleam of candlelight could be seen through the crack.

  By standing to the left of the door the two men were able to watch James as he duplicated Edward’s earlier movements—pushing, poking, prying at the medallions. After awhile he stood back, hands on hips and head bent forward meditatively. He retained this posture for some time before abruptly raising his head to stare attentively at one section of the wall. James lit more candles and brought them over to study the first medallion and the paneling above and below it. Starting at the top, which he reached by standing on one of Lady Eastwick’s finest tapestry-covered chairs, he searched every inch of the section. Eventually, almost an hour later, James reached the oak leaf and acorn trim.

  There was a satisfied sigh as the first acorn turned under James’ insistent fingers, and an almost gloating laugh floated to the two wat
chers as he worked the others and the medallion sprang back on its hinges. James reached greedily into the cavity and withdrew the “treasure.” The candlelight shown on his face as he studied the bronze belt buckle with incredulity. Steyne’s shoulders shook with suppressed mirth.

  James was too incensed to care if the whole household heard him and exploded, “A damn belt buckle! I’ve ruined two pairs of boots for a damn belt buckle!” And he flung the offending item on the floor to claw around in the hole in hopes that he had missed something on his first attempt. There was nothing. He muttered a whole string of coarse oaths as he retrieved the artifact from the floor, shoved it in the cavity and slammed the medallion back in place. Edward hoped that he hadn’t ruined the catch. Heedless of the dripping wax, James swung the branch of candles back onto the mantel and extinguished them with suppressed fury. Though he stomped from the room, he must have moderated his noise on reaching the hall, for they heard nothing further. In the darkness, Edward and Steyne grinned at each other.

  “Perfect,” Steyne proclaimed. “Shall we replace the bowl? Or better yet, why don’t you take it to your room until James has gone?”

  After all the excitement, Edward felt depressingly cast down. “But how would Uncle James have dared to steal the treasure? Surely he must have known that we would suspect him.”

  “James considers himself a law of his own.” Steyne rested a hand comfortingly on Edward’s shoulder. “Don’t let his conduct distress you unduly, Edward. Every family has its rogues and scapegraces. James must have felt certain that you had not as yet actually found the treasure, and when you did . . . Well, who is to say that it would still have been there? If you had opened the medallion and there was nothing in there, could you have sworn that James had taken it? After all, you didn’t know what it was, if it would still be there after all these years. There would at least have been a reasonable doubt as to his guilt. And he did leave the buckle.”