by Joan Smith
I don’t know what was in her mind. I expect she was so confused, she hardly knew what to think, and she wanted to protect us from any more involvement than necessary. I daresay it would be difficult to prove Lollie hadn’t put the blunt there himself.
“Yes, that might be best,” I said.
I was confused, too, but it wasn’t confusion that led me to agree so readily. Murray knew that Renshaw was involved. McAdam didn’t. If we could let McAdam handle the matter, Renshaw might be kept out of it. He didn’t deserve such consideration, but I couldn’t bear to think of him being led off in manacles. I would tell him the money was discovered and give him the opportunity to escape back to India and, I hoped, to lead a better life in the future.
We straightened our gowns, tidied our hair, and went to the saloon to greet the Murrays. Mrs. Murray had Fifi with her, cradled in her arms as if the dog were a baby. Fifi’s hair was held off her face with a bright red ribbon on this occasion. I must say she was a well-behaved pooch. She never uttered a sound all the time she was there, perhaps because Mrs. Murray kept stroking her neck.
“So farouche of us,” Mrs. Murray said, “calling at this hour, but we’re having a little rout party this evening. Archie has been called back to Whitehall. Something very important to do with an election. Liverpool wants his opinion on the timing of it. We’ve accepted half a dozen invitations to parties here at home. All will have to be canceled, so we’re having a do this evening to say au revoir to all our dear friends. Do say you’ll come.”
“But we had dinner at your house yesterday,” my aunt said.
“I know!” Mrs. Murray said, and laughed gaily. “But at election time, you know, a political hostess entertains more than usual.”
Murray cleared his throat and began a tedious speech. “You’re giving our friends the notion we’re only entertaining them for political reasons, Marie,” he said chidingly to his wife. “Nothing could be further from the truth. It is only the pleasure of our friends’ company we seek. Truth to tell, I would much rather stay at home at this time of year than go galloping off to London.”
“Oh, but the Season is in full swing, Archie!” Mrs. Murray pouted.
“You think too much of such things, Marie. I won’t always be a Member of Parliament, you must know. A man must look after his estate as well. I’m not at all sure I shall stand at the next election. I am thinking of asking Maitland if he’s interested.”
As soon as we agreed to attend, they left to invite others to their soiree. They were not long gone before McAdam arrived. I accompanied him to the cellar, hoping to indicate in some subtle manner that he not mention the money to Murray. I had no idea how this might be done. Strangely, McAdam himself suggested it.
“We’ll keep this find strictly between ourselves, if you don’t mind, Talbot,” he said. Of course he conversed with Lollie. I, being a mere lady, was ignored once I had taken him to the cellar.
“Except for Murray, you mean,” Lollie said.
“Not even Murray. He might not let it slip, but his good lady ...” Mrs. Murray’s flying tongue was well known to us all.
“Just so you remove the money at once,” I said.
McAdam stared at me in amusement. “Remove it? Oh, no, Miss Talbot. That would be most unwise.”
His Majesty’s agent was smiling cynically and nodding. “Of course, McAdam. Mum’s the word.”
“I’m sure Auntie is very eager to have the money taken away,” I said. “While it’s here, we’re a target for further break-ins.”
“That’s exactly the point, Amy,” Lollie explained with great condescension. “The thief’s hidden the property here, planning to return for it under cover of darkness. McAdam and I will be waiting for him. Catch him red-handed. I take it that’s your plan, McAdam?”
“Precisely, Mr. Talbot, but I wouldn’t want to involve an innocent citizen. I’ll arrange for help.”
“Dash it, it’s in my house! You can’t keep me out of it!” Lollie exclaimed in highest dudgeon.
“Well, if you feel that strongly about it,” McAdam said, relenting.
“Demmed right I do!”
“But why did they hide it here?” I asked.
“Because I was searching any likely spot out of doors,” Lollie said. “Naturally Renshaw wouldn’t want it found inside Sommers’s house, where he’s staying. I’m assuming Renshaw is your suspect, Mr. McAdam?”
McAdam’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he confirmed it. Why, then, had he looked surprised? Was he conning Lollie, or was he only surprised that Lollie knew?
“He won’t come before dark,” McAdam said. “We don’t want to draw attention that we’ve discovered the blunt is here. I’ll have my men hidden outside. For the rest, it would be best if you just go about your business as usual.”
“I was to test Renshaw’s grays this morning,” Lollie said.
“Good. Then do it, but don’t mention the money.”
Lollie was delighted that he didn’t have to forgo trying the grays. I expect he also liked the notion of having a chance to quiz the thief. My fear—or was it a hope?—was that he would give the show away.
George was appointed the task of guarding the bags of money in the cellar. McAdam told him not to repair the broken lock. That might tip the thief the clue that we were on to him.
I didn’t deign to appear when Renshaw called for Lollie, nor did Auntie. The post had arrived and she was reading her letters. I went into the park to sketch and caught a glimpse of the curricle from behind a spreading elm as they left. Lollie looked as pleased as punch, holding the reins.
Although they were gone for an hour and a half, I was still sketching when they returned. Time flies when one is at work. I own I felt an inclination to go into the saloon when I saw Renshaw enter the house, but pride kept me where I was. I was more than ready to go in when at last the door opened and Renshaw came out. He was chatting and smiling in a way that told me Lollie had kept his secret
The curricle was standing at the front door, but Renshaw didn’t climb into it. He struck out into the park, looking around. I failed to see who he could be looking for except myself. His words when he found me confirmed it.
“There you are!” he exclaimed, coming forward at an eager gait.
“Were you looking for me, Mr. Renshaw? I am about ready to go in for lunch,” I said, gathering up my equipment and trying not to look at him, lest my eyes betray my knowledge.
He glanced at the fleabane I had been drawing and frowned.
“It’s the first fleabane I’ve seen this year. They don’t usually open until June, but the spring has been warm,” I said, following his gaze to the page.
I noticed then what a wretched job I had done of it. The petals were all wrong. Fleabane has petals so narrow they are almost like hairs. I had made them too broad, more like a Mayweed or a daisy. I had been so distracted that morning that I paid little heed to my sketching. I looked up, wondering if Renshaw had noticed the deterioration in my work. He was looking at me in such a familiar way. His frown had changed to a smile of satisfaction.
“I’ve been having the same trouble,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I think you know. A little lack of concentration. If my mind had been on the job at hand, I wouldn’t have let Talbot drive so far, so fast. Especially as I’m leaving this afternoon and want my team fresh.”
“You’re leaving!” I exclaimed. A shaft of sorrow pierced me like an arrow.
“Why, I thought it would please you, Amy. You’ve urged me to return to my hops more than once.”
In a way it did please me. If he left, then he wouldn’t be caught retrieving the money. Or was it a trick? Letting on he was leaving ...
“Yes, I’m afraid I’ll be missing the Murrays’ party this evening. Duty calls.”
“I see.” And while we were all at the party, he’d slip to Oakbay and get into the cellar.
“Mr. Maitland shan’t have it all his own way, however,”
he added with another smile. “Beau plans to attend.”
“Back from visiting his aunt, is he?”
“He admitted this morning that he didn’t go to his aunt’s last night at all, but to a cockfight. The Murrays’ dos are too tame for him, but I convinced him to go this evening.” His eyes studied me closely. “He has instructions to keep an eye on you for me until I can return,” he said
I couldn’t quell the lurching of my heart. I daresay some of my pleasure showed on my face to hear he meant to come back. I tried to keep a calm expression, but I felt my lips part in a smile.
“That’s more like it, Amy,” he said softly, inching farther behind the elm. “It will soon be over. And when it is ...” He reached for me and pulled me behind the concealing branches of the tree, where he drew me into his arms. And I let him. Nay, encouraged him. I went willingly.
He crushed me against his strong chest and kissed me. There was no nibbling this time, but a firm, heart-stopping embrace that sent my senses reeling as his lips firmed demandingly on mine. I felt aglow, as if a sun had arisen inside me, illuminating and warming me from within.
There is no describing the indescribable. You have either experienced love or you have not. It felt like love. I had fallen in love with a thief and a murderer. It couldn’t be!
I pushed him away, the words came in a strangled gasp. “Oh, Robert! Why did you—”
He drew me back into his arms, smiling curiously. “Are we discussing this embrace or something else?” His periwinkle eyes, fringed with long lashes, gazed into mine. They weren’t the eyes of a murderer. I was as sure of that as of my own name. As to the theft, perhaps he meant to return the money.
“I kissed you because I love you. I fell in love with you because ... because you’re you and I am I. And for once Fate got it right, bringing me here at this time.”
My happiness was shadowed by the horrid circumstances of “this time.” “Don’t bother about the money, Robert,” I begged. “Just go to London. Go now and don’t come back until this is all over, one way or the other.”
“You have the schedule reversed, but I will come back for you very soon, Amy. Will you wait for me?”
“I—”
“And pray, don’t do anything foolish, my dear. Let me handle this. I must go now. Au revoir.”
He kissed me again, swiftly, fiercely, then ran back to his curricle, leaving me alone with my mind in a turmoil, pondering his words. If I had the schedule reversed, then did that mean he wouldn’t leave for London until this affair was over? But he was leaving today before the party. Or was he?
I gave it up and thought instead of the sweetest words ever spoken. “I love you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lollie was waiting for me when I went into the house.
“About Renshaw,” he said. “I think we might be coursing the wrong hare there. I mean to say, just because he’s a stranger in town is no reason to assume he’s our villain. It might just as easily be Beau or Maitland. Easier. Maitland has definitely put an offer on Chalmers’s place. I heard it in town. Where did he suddenly get so much blunt? I’m not saying Renshaw’s innocent, but we have no real proof he’s guilty.”
I was grateful for his change of heart, but I knew the cause of it: that pair of blood grays.
Auntie seemed distracted at lunch. She scarcely spoke but only pushed her food around with her fork while glancing from time to time at a letter by her plate. Lollie carried the burden of conversation. As his talk was all of Renshaw and his grays, I listened with some interest. Renshaw, he said, was a bang-up fiddler, down as a nail and full of pluck. He had promised to keep an eye open at Tattersall’s for a team of grays for Lollie when he was ready to set up his curricle.
I expected a tirade from Auntie at this suggestion, but she just said snidely, “I’m sure Mr. Renshaw knows all about horses, but he didn’t learn it in India.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded at once. It was the way she said it, so snidely.
“I had an answer to my note to Hillary this morning, Amy.” She indicated the letter. “You might be interested to know your Mr. Renshaw never worked for the E.I.C. Hillary has never heard of him. He’s obviously lying. Renshaw, I mean. I’d like to know where he got that tanned complexion.”
I couldn’t see my own face, but I doubt if it looked any more unhappy or outraged than Lollie’s. I felt betrayed by Renshaw, and I am half ashamed to admit I took it out on Auntie by suggesting a few things might go on at the E.I.C. that her brother didn’t know of.
“Not where personnel being sent to India is concerned,” she retaliated, “That is his job, to handle the new recruits being sent out to India.”
I watched as the government agent’s keen mind went to work and came up with an explanation of sorts.
“The Peninsula!” he exclaimed. “By the living jingo, where else could Renshaw have got those tanned cheeks? I always thought he had a military strut. And that scar... Why, he probably took a bullet in battle.”
Auntie pooh-poohed this notion. “More likely he went to India on his own and got shot for stealing a horse.”
“By Jove, I shall dart over to Beauvert this minute before Renshaw leaves and demand an explanation,” Lollie said.
Lollie left almost immediately, but when he returned, he said Renshaw had already left. Lollie had spoken to Beau, however, and was wearing an excited face. Lollie decided to go and speak to McAdam, and if he didn’t know the story, he would ask Murray.
“Murray certainly knows something,” he added.
My faith in Renshaw was badly shaken by all this, I didn’t think Murray knew anything good of him. Lollie had described their meeting behind closed doors at last night’s party as an interrogation. It was best to discover the truth, of course, but it made a shambles of my mind and heart.
Lollie was gone most of the afternoon. When he returned, I had gone abovestairs to dress for dinner and the party and didn’t have the opportunity to quiz him in private. We were to dine at home, but I dressed for the rout in a jonquil crepe gown with tiny yellow rosebuds at the bodice and wore matching ones in my hair. All this elegance did nothing to cheer me.
“I don’t know what ails the pair of you,” Auntie scolded over dinner that evening. “Amy looking as close to a sulky cod as makes no difference, and all over that impostor who claimed to work for John Company. You have a wolf by the ears there, my girl. And you, Lollie, are smirking like a Bath miss, while we sit on a pile of stolen money, waiting for some bloodthirsty murderer to come and steal it out from under us.”
“Steps are being taken to safeguard the property,” Lollie informed her.
“I wish we weren’t going to the Murrays’ party this evening,” I said, and meant it. Renshaw wouldn’t be there. In all probability I’d never see him again. How could he return, when he had been lying to us from the beginning?
“And that’s another thing,” Auntie continued. She was in a ranting mood. I knew she had been looking forward to the whist party that had been canceled because of Mrs. Murray’s do. “That woman has no sense. Who wants to go to the same house two evenings in a row, to eat mutton dressed up like Jack Dandy? What will she serve this evening, I wonder? Chicken in silk stockings? A salmon in a topcoat?”
“Let us not go, Auntie,” I urged.
She considered it a moment, then said, “The whist party has been canceled. Everyone will be there. We either go or sit at home staring at the walls.”
“I am quite looking forward to it,” Lollie said. He had been looking very pleased with himself all through dinner.
Aunt Talbot regarded him suspiciously. “You aren’t usually such a gadfly, Lollie. Cockfights and badger baiting are more your style. As your eyes have narrowed to slits, I see you are expecting something exciting to occur. Something to do with those bags of money in the cellar.”
“I expect tonight will see the mystery cleared up,” he said, and nonchalantly cut a piece of beefsteak into pieces.
&nbs
p; Auntie and I were as one in demanding an immediate explanation.
“It’s only common sense. What better time to go after the blunt than when we are all out of the house?” he said with a shrug. “I shouldn’t be surprised if that’s why Murray is having this do. He is likely helping McAdam. By giving the party, he will give the thief the notion no one is home. I fancy the cellar will have company this evening.”
“In case it has slipped your notice, we won’t be here,” I reminded him. “This excitement won’t occur at the Murrays’ but here at Oakbay.”
“But it will be interesting to see who ain’t at the Murrays’,” he said, smirking.
“Rob—Renshaw has gone to London,” I said at once. “Just because he isn’t there doesn’t mean—”
“Dash it, I ain’t talking about Renshaw. I know all about him.” He assumed an important expression, quite like Mr. Murray just before one of his lectures.
My heart leaped into my throat. “What do you mean, you know all about him?”
“It’s secret information.”
“You can tell us,” Auntie said at once. “We’re family.”
It was clear to the meanest intelligence that Lollie was eager to share his news. Ere long, he did so.
“As you know, I had a word with Beau,” Lollie began. “Once I heard what he had to say, I went along to McAdam. And once McAdam discovered I knew Renshaw was a dashed hero, he broke down and told me the rest.” The word hero echoed like celestial chimes in my ears.
“Go on,” Auntie urged, leaning forward in her eagerness.
“It’s as I said. He was in the Peninsula. A colonel. He only told that plumper about being in India to account for his complexion. That little scar on his forehead—he took a bullet in Spain. It scraped his skull, jarred the brain, and set him to raving, but it didn’t penetrate the bone. They thought he was for it, sent him home to die. He recovered on the ship and turned his hand to working for the government. An agent, like Lord Harry. I got that much from Beau, but he wouldn’t tell me the rest, so I went along to McAdam, letting on I knew more than I did, and found out the whole truth.”