The Treasure of Stonewycke

by Michael Phillips

  It was more than all these features. As Hilary continued to gaze at the portrait before her, suddenly it came into focus. The thing she recognized more than anything else was the chin!

  She remembered the meeting with Lady Joanna. She had noticed it so clearly. It had looked strangely familiar in that first moment of their meeting, though subsequent developments caused her to forget. But now all at once, seeing it again in Maggie’s face, offering a fitting foundation to the mouth, lips, eyes, and cheekbones that rose up from it, there again was that distinctive chin! Hundreds of people could possess such a combination of distinguishing physical traits. But only one person she knew!

  No wonder they had jumped out at her all at once off the canvas! Those same eyes, those same cheekbones, those same eyebrows, and that same chin had been staring back at her for as long as she could remember, whenever she looked in a mirror!

  And with the stunning realization came back into her mind the words of her reporter friend, the Irishman Bert: “If it weren’t fer that chin, Eddie, me dear, I’d think you was the essence of naivete. But between the chin and those eyes, I know you’re not one to tangle with!”

  Unconsciously Hilary’s hands went to her cheeks as she gasped again, this time audibly. For several moments she stood as one in a trance, unable to take her gaze away from the incredible face that had at last revealed the truth of its secret.

  Behind her, she had not heard another enter at the door she had left ajar, nor was she aware of the presence which now stood beholding her, statuelike, as she stared upon the wall. But to the one observing, the scene as it spread out on the other side of the gallery could not have been more bitterly poignant, for to her too, more than resemblance of dress had been revealed.

  “So . . . at last you know.” Jo’s voice echoed like a thunderclap through the silent gallery.

  With a frightened start, Hilary spun around. Speechless, she opened her mouth, but no words would come.

  All the effort in the world could not have wiped away the truth from Hilary’s face. Their eyes met and locked together. For a long, uncomfortable moment they held one another’s gaze in silence.

  Then gradually a mask seemed to fall from Jo’s innocent, well-controlled countenance. All shams abandoned, her eyes suddenly narrowed. Her mouth, which had always been so quick to trace a sweet smile, hardened with vehemence.

  “It doesn’t matter, you know.” Her voice was as icy with harsh disdain as it had once been with musical simplicity. “They will never believe you. Allison loves me. She is so ill that a little shock could kill her. You had better watch what you say!”

  “She is not that ill,” said Hilary, finding her voice.

  “She is very ill!” spat back Jo. “If I were you, I would be careful not to do anything to upset her. Anything, do you hear? I do believe she is quite suicidal.”

  “You don’t mean to say—”

  “I mean watch your step, Miss Edwards, so that no harm comes either to the woman you may think is your mother . . . or to yourself! Just remember—before you say anything to anyone, they will never believe you. I will make sure of that!”

  Before Hilary could say anything further, Jo spun around and left the gallery.

  47

  Outside the Ballroom

  The gathering was in full swing when Hilary wandered back into the great hall, still in too much of a stupor to pay much attention to those about her. She must have been gone for more than an hour before Jo’s untimely appearance. The band was in the middle of “The Flowers of Edinburgh” and the floor was filled with at least five highly animated sets of dancers. Yet even with forty persons dancing, the floor could easily have contained another five sets. Laughter and pleasant conversation echoed throughout the room in spite of the music, all of which fell almost discordantly on Hilary’s keyed-up, flustered senses.

  Logan stood at the far end of the room, chatting with friends, now and then clapping in time to the music and adding a rousing whoop! or yell to the accompaniment. Beside him stood Allison, looking drawn and strained, a mere shadow of the hardy woman of the portrait Hilary had just seen. Beside Allison stood Jo, showing her every attention, lavishing upon the ailing woman the care and tenderness she seemed to require.

  Slowly Hilary began making her way toward them. She had no idea what she would say or do. Something inside her sensed danger. But whether she could avert it, and whether she had any who might be allies in this house, she did not know.

  She had walked about halfway around the perimeter of the room, her brain gradually clearing as she considered what action to take. But her thoughts and her steps progressed no further.

  Suddenly von Burchardt was at her side, and in a flurry of ebullient greetings had firmly taken her arm and half led, half propelled her into a St. Bernard’s Waltz which had just begun.

  “Emil, this is a surprise!” she said.

  “So I would assume,” he replied, smiling broadly, his white teeth flashing. “After your desertion the other day, I assumed you wanted to see me no more.”

  “That’s not fair, Emil,” said Hilary, attempting to turn on what charm she could muster. “You saw what happened. That horrid Professor Jameson grabbed me off your yacht.”

  “You appeared walking willingly under your own power,” persisted the viscount, his smile unable to mask the cynicism in his tightly controlled voice.

  “He lied to me, Emil. He told me I was needed urgently at the house.”

  Ruminating momentarily, von Burchardt nodded thoughtfully. “I see,” he said. “Yet when I called only a short time later, neither of you were there. I could not help fancying myself the fool.”

  “I’m sorry, Emil. He kidnapped me. I had no choice. I was positively furious at the man.”

  For the next couple rounds of the waltz they danced in silence, though on neither part did there appear any desire toward a more intimate embrace. Stiffly they went through the motions, each lost in his own private thoughts regarding the other. Emil contemplated recent days, the interference of this busybody Jameson, and whether or not he could work his way back into the good graces of this little vixen in his arms. If he could, was there time for such a ploy to do any good, or were stronger measures called for? If he could not get her onto his yacht voluntarily, perhaps a forceful abduction would prove necessary after all, just as his accomplice had suggested in the first place.

  He should have listened. Now there was going to be the devil to pay for letting her slip through his fingers right when he had been just minutes away from casting off and eliminating the source of their difficulties for good.

  For her part, Hilary found herself struggling with remaining last-minute uncertainties about where loyalties lined up around here. The professor had been too easily absolved in one convenient stroke by Murry’s call. What if his presence here was part of some evil scheme? What was more likely to follow than that he would have covered his tracks with a well-documented cover? She could not escape the fact that he had lied to her, and had been seen at least once alone with Jo, whose motives she now had reason to suspect as well.

  Perhaps I should confide in Emil, she thought. What harm can it do? If he is merely a disinterested visitor to Port Strathy, his knowing a few more of the family secrets would cause no trouble. He already knows as much as anyone else anyway! She had to get it off her chest, and besides Logan—who was too close to the situation to be objective, she said to herself—there was no one else she could trust.

  “Emil,” she said as the dance ended, “perhaps we could talk somewhere. More seriously.”

  “Certainly!” responded the viscount, thinking to himself that getting Hilary away from this crowd was the obvious first step toward his yacht. If they cast off tonight, they could be standing outside Newcastle by morning.

  “Shall we go to my yacht? We will have all the privacy there we could desire. I have an automobile, and we could be there within minutes.”

  “I’m not ready to leave the party just yet,”
replied Hilary. “How about a walk outside?”

  Hiding his displeasure, von Burchardt nodded, then led the way with a wave of his hand. As they approached the door, out of the corner of her eye Hilary saw Ashley enter the ballroom from another door with a small group of locals. Unexpectedly her heart gave a little leap at seeing his relaxed, friendly countenance. Was it fear or relief that prompted the unsought flutter? She could not tell, but in spite of all logic, her instincts told her his motives had to be honest and that, all unexplained actions aside, he was a friend.

  Before she had opportunity to reflect further, however, they were out the door and into the chilly evening air.

  They walked some distance on the lawn in silence, Hilary pondering how to express the concerns on her heart. Without realizing it, she allowed the viscount to lead her inconspicuously toward the front of the house. As they went he commented innocently about the weather, the coming of winter, the conditions of the sea for sailing, asking here and there a harmless personal question, displaying all the charm which had endeared him to the inhabitants of the house after his first appearance. Hilary carried on her share of the conversation, while underneath her mind debated with itself, trying to sort out the new events this evening had revealed. Before she knew it, they had left the courtyard and were passing the gates.

  “Hadn’t we better turn back, Emil?” said Hilary with a shiver.

  “Nonsense, my dear,” he replied with a laugh. “Let’s just enjoy a little walk among the trees along the drive.”

  “Please, I think—”

  “These firs really are magnificent,” he persisted, now clutching her arm more firmly and walking on. “You will see what I mean once we get beyond the glare of the lights from the castle.”

  “Emil, please! You’re hurting my arm!”

  “Come, my dear, let’s walk a bit farther,” he replied, not relaxing his hold.

  Recognizing herself powerless to resist, but still not divining the extent of her peril, Hilary submitted, and they continued forward.

  All of a sudden, from out of the dark in front of them, a figure stepped onto the road.

  “Ah, my good man, Herr von Burchardt! Splendid evening for a saunter about the grounds.”

  It was Ashley!

  Unable to believe her ears, for she had only moments ago seen him absorbed in conversation in the ballroom, Hilary felt a great surge of relief at the sound of his voice, rising above the viscount’s muttered cursing of the blackguard meddler!

  Still puffing from his dash through the trees, Ashley walked toward them, gave von Burchardt a rousing handshake, turned, and fell in on the other side of Hilary. He had seen them exit the hall, had followed them long enough to spy out the direction in which they were headed, and then had gone back through the house, out a door on the opposite side, run across the lawn, through a break in the hedge, through the grove of trees that extended out from the courtyard, finally winding up beyond the walkers at the point where he met them on the road.

  “Where are you two headed?” he asked with cheerful innocence.

  “Merely out for a walk, Jameson,” replied the viscount with forced calm, “which I hope you’ll allow us to continue by excusing us.”

  “I was just going to ask Miss Edwards to join me for a dance when I was in the hall a few minutes ago.”

  “As you can see,” said Burchardt, “she is at present occupied.”

  “Indeed. But it really is rather cold out. What do you say, Miss Edwards—do you feel like warming up to a quick-stepping reel?”

  “Why, yes, thank you,” replied Hilary. “That sounds—”

  “Now look here, Jameson,” interrupted von Burchardt, his temper at last getting the better of him. “Do you make it a practice of going around interfering where you’re not wanted?”

  “I’m sorry, Burchardt. I only thought the lady might—”

  “The lady is fine! And she is with me!”

  “For the moment. But she says she would like to dance . . . with me.”

  The viscount stopped and turned to face Ashley. “If you are serious about your meddling, Jameson,” he said with scorn. “Then perhaps we ought to have it out right here and now between the two of us!”

  “I have no desire to fight you, Burchardt,” said Ashley. “But I will not allow you to take Miss Edwards another step from the house.”

  “You will not allow!” yelled the viscount, laughing in derision. “You expect to stop me from doing as I please? Ha! ha! ha!”

  “Hilary,” said Ashley softly, turning toward her, “go back to the castle . . . please.”

  Hilary retreated a couple of steps, but was arrested by the viscount’s voice. “Stay where you are, Miss Edwards! I want you to see your supposed hero’s true valor after I have punished him as he deserves!”

  “Go, Hilary,” repeated Ashley.

  Hilary walked farther back toward the gates. Von Burchardt stepped menacingly toward Ashley.

  “If you so much as lay a hand on him, Emil,” shouted Hilary from where she stood, “I swear to you I will bring every truth-loving man from inside that hall out with my cries. And then it will not go so well with you, I think!”

  Von Burchardt stopped.

  “Come, Ashley,” said Hilary. “Will you please accompany me back inside?”

  With one final glance in the direction of the esteemed Viscount von Burchardt, Ashley turned and rejoined Hilary, leaving Emil standing in the middle of the darkened roadway in a white fury.

  Hilary slipped her hand through Ashley’s arm and held tightly.

  “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you,” she said.

  “I don’t think he would have.”

  “But he might have.”

  “That was a chance I had to take.”

  “Does this have anything to do with that hairbrained abduction you pulled at his boat the other day?” asked Hilary with a laugh.

  “I suppose,” he replied. “I was sure he was up to no good. I can’t prove it, but I’m certain he has been trying to get you away from here . . . permanently. I couldn’t let that happen. Not only for your safety’s sake, but for the sake of Logan and Allison. That’s why I’ve been watching you so close, both then and tonight.”

  “All this time I thought you were his ally . . . or Jo’s!”

  “Me . . . hooked up with von Burchardt?” said Ashley incredulously.

  “I thought you must have lured me away from my room that night so he could come in and prowl around.”

  “That’s a good one!” laughed Ashley; then his face turned somber. “Hmm, though perhaps you’re onto something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just before I arrived at your door that night, I thought I caught a faint whiff of perfume lingering in the hallway. At first I dismissed it as yours. But then when you opened the door it was not there. If von Burchardt did indeed have an accomplice that night . . .”

  He let his thought trail away unstated.

  “You’re not Jo’s ally either? You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

  “Not so much, really.”

  “I’ve seen you together.”

  “Just sorting out the evidence. I have to spend enough time with the both of you so that I know you. How else can I—”

  He stopped, realizing he had gone too far.

  “How else can you what?”

  “I suppose not much harm can come from your knowing, now that we have come this far. Without spending time with the two of you, there’s no way I can make an accurate report.”

  “A report? You make it sound so clinical. Whom do you have to report to?”

  “It seems only fair that you have some explanation. I hope he’ll forgive me.” Ashley paused, took a breath, then said, “I am here at Logan’s request. He wanted someone he could trust to act the part of a neutral party. He thought perhaps he and Allison were too deeply involved in the situation emotionally to judge accurately between you and Jo—if no concrete evidence present
ed itself. At the same time he felt the two of you would feel reticent around someone you knew was his friend. Thus the charade. He asked me to come incognito, as it were.”

  “Well, you certainly pulled it off! I was so suspicious of you that I even called an associate in London to have you run through the police computer.”

  Ashley chuckled, amused at the idea.

  “You were completely exonerated, as far as it went. I should have known all along that your intentions were noble, or at least genuine.”

  “Noblesse oblige and all that, eh?”

  “That is a subject we are going to have to deal with one day, Ashley,” laughed Hilary. “But something tells me this is not the time.”

  They walked on a few more steps in silence. They were again nearing the house, and in the distance voices could now be heard of the merrymakers. Overhead the night sky was speckled with pulsating stars, appearing crisper, even closer, in the chilly air. Rising through the trees to the north of the castle, the moon was just now making its appearance felt. Both Hilary and Ashley inwardly found themselves wishing the circumstances surrounding this moonlight stroll had been different.

  “I did not have the chance to see your new dress for long inside,” said Ashley at length. “But now that we get nearer the light, I must say my first assessment was correct. It is beautiful. I should say you are beautiful in it!”

  “Thank you.” Hilary was glad for the cover of darkness, for she felt the red rising in her cheeks.

  “Are you warm enough?” he asked, seeing her shiver.

  “We’ll be in soon. What about you? Or do those midnight walks of yours give you such a hardy constitution that you scoff at the cold?”