"Right," said Owen, when they could reasonably consider themselves out of earshot. "Are we clear on the next move?"
"I'll talk to Nicola. It won't look odd if I pull her away from the piano. You can explain to Charles. Then at the appropriate moment we'll produce the real Raimundo Ribeiro. What could be simpler?"
"If I had the time, I could give you quite a list." He started to move off, then turned and grinned at her. "Has anyone ever told you you're a splendid conspirator, Amanda?"
"That," said Amanda seriously, "is the nicest compliment I've ever received."
"Gammon, my girl," Owen said and went off in search of Charles.
The past two hours had been a great test of Amanda's patience, but somehow she had managed to join in the caroling, though her off-key voice drew a curious look from Verity, and to sip tea and sample holiday delicacies, though she could not claim to have tasted any of them. Now, at last, the gathering in the drawing room had broken up and all the pertinent people were gathered in the library. Or almost all. Nicola had brought Lady Duffield and Charles had just followed with Henrique Ribeiro, but there was no sign of Owen and Raimundo.
One could not precisely say that Henrique looked nervous, but he certainly appeared less comfortable than Amanda had ever seen him. "Is this another of your charming English customs?" he inquired, leaning against the mantel in a pose of studied unconcern. "Do we await more holiday revelry?"
"You could say that." As always in moments of high drama, Charles was a model of composure. He was at the table where the decanters were set out, calmly pouring drinks as if this were indeed simply an extension of the day's festivities. Amanda accepted a glass of sherry from her brother and settled back into the soft leather of the sofa. Nicola was seated beside her, and Lady Duffield was settled in an enormous wing chair, looking more fragile and delicate than ever.
"Do sit down, Senhor Ribeiro," Nicola said with her most charming smile. "Pm afraid the others are late."
Even as she spoke, there was a faint whoosh, and the light from the lamp by the door wavered for a moment. "So sorry to have kept you waiting," Owen said, strolling into the room. "I do thank you for your patience, Senhor Ribeiro. I'm afraid we have been dreadfully remiss, but you must note that we did not allow all of
Christmas day to pass without reuniting you with your family."
Before the startled Henrique could respond, Owen stepped aside, and Raimundo Ribeiro, neatly attired in the clothes he had worn beneath Friar Tiick's habit, followed him into the room.
Henrique Ribeiro regarded his brother for a long moment, his face devoid of expression. Then he gave a reluctant smile and stepped forward, his hand extended. "Henrique," he said, shaking his head sorrowfully. "So you have returned to confess your subterfuge. It was really too bad of you."
Raimundo stood very straight and did not take his brother's proffered hand. He fairly bristled with indignation. "You." A long phrase in Portuguese followed, which Amanda greatly regretted she was unable to translate.
Owen tactfully waited until Raimundo had done, then addressed Henrique. "Better give over, Ribeiro. Pm afraid Lady Duffield has identified your brother quite conclusively."
Henrique whirled round to stare at Lady Duffield. "My dear Pamela," he exclaimed, "can it be that you doubt me?"
Lady Duffield gave a tinkling, appreciative laugh. "Very well done, Senhor. For a moment in the drawing room I almost wondered if I had been mistaken. TWenty years is a great time after all, and you and your brother are very like. But there are certain things about Raimundo that I will never forget." She cast a charming smile at Raimundo, who lowered his gaze to the floor in acute embarrassment.
Henrique looked from Lady Duffield to Raimundo, started to speak, thought better of it, and at last gave a philosophical shrug. "You have caught me. Well and fairly. I hope you will accept my apologies for so tres-
passing on your hospitality," he added with a smile which included Amanda as well as Nicola and Charles. "You must believe that I would not have done so had the temptation not been great."
"Yes," said Amanda, "about the temptation. I rather think you owe us an explanation."
"My thoughts exactly," said Owen, advancing into the room.
"But of course." Henrique waited until everyone —including, after a few well-chosen words from Owen, Raimundo—was seated. "As I believe you all know, I currently reside in Paris. From time to time, I pay a visit to our sister Carlota, who married a Frenchman long before all the unpleasantness on the Continent. Carlota has always been fond of me, despite my scapegrace ways." He smiled apologetically. Raimundo scowled furiously.
"Carlota informed me," Henrique continued, "that Raimundo would be visiting her in Paris shortly after the New Year, but that first he had to attend to some business in England for our nephew Eugenio. Raimundo, she told me, was invited to spend the Christmas holidays in Devonshire at a house called Ludlow. I would scarcely have given the matter a second thought had it not happened that at that same time I had formed a most agreeable connection with an English lady—you English have been quite overrunning Paris since the peace, you know. This estimable lady had, I think, best remain nameless, but she has long been a friend of Lady Duffield. When I told her that my brother would be staying at Ludlow, she said it was the greatest coincidence, for she had just had a letter—"
"Lucinda Carlow," Lady Duffield exclaimed. "She's always had a shockingly loose tongue."
"I fear I must bow to Lady Duffield's powers of deduction," Henrique said, inclining his head in Lady
Duffield's direction. "My dear friend Mrs. Carlow informed me that Lady Duffield was also to be a guest at Ludlow over the holidays, and knowing the relation in which my brother had once stood to Lady Duffield, I was" —he paused, hesitating carefully over his choice of words —"shall we say, I was much struck by the dilemma in which Raimundo would be placed, for I knew he would not wish to cause Lady Duffield any embarrassment."
"So you decided to save him such embarrassment by taking his place?" Nicola inquired.
"Oh, no, Lady Windham. It was not until Mrs. Carlow informed me that she had received another letter from her friend and that Lady Duffield, learning that a certain gentleman, whom she did not wish to meet, was to be among the guests at Ludlow, meant to cry off from her engagement — "
"I could wring Luanda's neck," Lady Duffield said with feeling.
"It was not until I learned this that my plan began to take shape. Lady Duffield was not to put in an appearance at Ludlow, but she would be expected. Knowing my brother's chivalrous nature, I was confident that an appeal on Lady Duffield's behalf would cause him to quit the house party. I could then take his place, secure in the knowledge that Lady Duffield would not arrive and denounce me as an imposter." He sighed. "It was an excellent plan. I was very nearly successful."
"But why?" Amanda could not contain her curiosity. "What did you hope to gain?"
Henrique turned his melting brown eyes upon her. "Need you ask, Miss Berwick? The book, of course."
Raimundo started to speak, then threw up his hands in disgust and reached for the brandy Charles had given him. Owen leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "A great deal of trouble, surely, for something
worth only a few hundred pounds."
Henrique smiled. "A few hundred pounds may be a mere trifle to you, Mr. Thorn, but to a man such as I, leading a quite hand-to-mouth existence, it is nothing to be sneezed at. And now," he continued, getting to his feet, "I believe it is past time I made my departure. You must allow me to thank you for your hospitality, Lady Windham. I apologize for accepting it under false pretenses. I will take my leave before I cause you further embarrassment."
"Nonsense," Nicola said in a warm voice which held more than a trace of amusement. "We wouldn't turn anyone out of the house at this hour, especially with the weather so dismal. And I certainly wouldn't ask any of the servants to drive you into Honiton on Christmas night in the middle of a storm." The wind had come u
p during the evening and even indoors they could feel its constant buffets. "I daresay your brother can tolerate your presence under the same roof for one night. After all," Nicola concluded, a smile playing about her lips, "the book is safely under lock and key."
Henrique returned the smile appreciatively. "Just so, Lady Windham. My greatest thanks. I will be gone before breakfast."
Henrique's exit was followed by silence, broken at last by a gust of acrid smoke from the fireplace. Charles rose to poke up the smoldering fire. "I would not have believed it of him," Raimundo said suddenly. "I do apologize. My brother's behavior has been unpardonable."
"It's not your fault," Nicola assured him. "And you must admit he was very enterprising about it."
"Yes," said Amanda thoughtfully, "and all for-1 mean, I know a few hundred pounds would be the absolute earth to some people, but for all his talk about a hand-to-mouth existence, he doesn't look like one of
them. Or am I wrong?" she asked, turning to Raimundo.
Raimundo, who had fallen to staring at his hands, as if in contemplation of his brother's sins, looked up at her and shook his head. "Henrique has always lived extravagantly, Miss Berwick. I would not have thought a few hundred pounds would be a sufficient sum to arouse his interest. Indeed, I would have thought he could borrow that much from Carlota easily enough, but perhaps he found he had asked her for money once too often."
"I must say," Lady Duffield observed, "he took it remarkably well."
"There was very little else he could do," Charles said, returning to his chair.
"That doesn't necessarily mean—Oh, Lord." Amanda looked at her brother. "You do quite definitely have the book, don't you?"
Owen and Charles exchanged glances. "It's been locked up since yesterday," said Charles, but he rose and crossed to a tall mahogany cabinet which stood between two glass-fronted bookcases. As he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked a lower drawer, Amanda was aware of how very quiet the room had become. Charles pulled the drawer open, and Amanda was quite certain she heard him breathe a sigh of relief.
"All accounted for," he said, turning back to the others, the book held carefully in both hands. "Care to have a look at it, Owen, just to be on the safe side? Although," he added, exchanging glances with Nicola, "it would be a bit much if it turned out to be counterfeit."
Unlike the others, who were all looking at Charles, Owen was staring fixedly at the amber liquid in his glass, a frown on his face. But at Charles's words he roused himself, set down the glass, and crossed to the
sofa table where Charles had placed the book. Amanda leaned over the back of the sofa and watched with interest as Owen studied the worn volume.
"It's genuine/' he said after a moment, but his face still wore a faint frown.
"What is it?" Amanda asked.
"Pm not sure. Except that I suspect you're right. I don't think Henrique was after the book at all."
"Oh, dear, do you think we ought to count the silver?" Nicola asked.
"No," said Raimundo firmly. "Even Henrique would not stoop to such a common crime."
Amanda did not see precisely what made stealing silver worse than stealing a book, but it did not seem politic to say so. "Owen," she said slowly, turning possibilities over in her mind, "is it possible that the book is more valuable than we realize? I mean this particular book. Could there be something which sets it apart from other first editions of Blanchardyn and Eglantine? Or could-"
She broke off because of the marked change in Owen's expression. The frown was gone, and he looked at once appalled and strangely excited. "Good God," he said softly. Then he turned up the lamp that stood on the table, opened the front cover of the book, and ran his finger down the spine.
A slow, satisfied smile crossing his face, Owen closed the book. "Children," he said, surveying the company, "I'm afraid the drama isn't quite over. Might I suggest we adjourn to Henrique's chamber? I do not think it would be wise to let this wait until morning."
Raimundo bounded out of his chair. "Are you saying—" he began.
"I think," said Owen, moving to the door, 'that we had best let your brother tell us about it."
To Amanda's relief, no one suggested that the ladies
remain in the library. Nicola and Lady Duffield were not about to be left out of things, and Owen and Charles were not foolish enough to try to exclude them. As for Senhor Ribeiro, he appeared entirely preoccupied with the question of what further mischief his brother was up to.
Henrique, who had removed his coat but otherwise was still fully dressed, took the arrival of such a deputation in his bedchamber remarkably well. "You have thought of further questions you wish to ask me?" he said politely, ushering the ladies toward the settee and chairs before the fireplace.
"You could say that," said Owen cheerfully, taking up a stance beside the settee. "WeVe come to ask you for something quite specific. Being a fair man, you will have to agree that it cannot possibly be called yours."
Henrique regarded him with a very creditable look of surprise. "But Lord Windham locked the book in the cabinet after I looked at it yesterday. Indeed, even before my brother arrived I had begun to wonder how I would manage to recover it."
"Oh, but you didnt need the book." Owen's expression was intent, but Amanda could tell he was enjoying himself hugely. "By yesterday afternoon you were already in possession of the object which had brought you to Ludlow. I don't wonder you admitted to your charade so easily. We hadn't really disrupted your plans at all."
"My dear Mr. Thorn, I must beg leave to differ with you."
"You may beg whatever you wish, Senhor Ribeiro. If you do not produce the object in question, Lord Windham and I are prepared to search your room."
Charles nodded in confirmation of this last, quite as if he knew exactly what Owen was talking about.
"Henrique," said Raimundo, when his brother did not
immediately answer, "I don't know what it is you have stolen, but I demand that you return it at once."
At this, Henrique gave a shout of laughter. Then, as he had done in the library when he admitted he was not Raimundo, he gave a shrug of resignation. "If it were not for Lady Windham's generous insistence that I stay the night, I would be long gone by now. Ah, well, you cannot deny that it was an excellent plan."
Without further protest, he walked to his bedside table, picked up a slim volume which had been lying there and carried it to a Pembroke table near the fireplace. Opening the book, he carefully abstracted a fragile sheet of paper from between its pages. "Is this what you are looking for, Mr. Thorn?"
Owen stared at the paper for a long interval with amazement, reverence, and delight. Amanda came to stand beside him, but a view of the paper told her little. It was covered with a faded and quite indecipherable writing. The paper itself looked old, as old as the pages of Blanchardyn and Eglantine. Amanda glanced quickly at Owen. "This was hidden inside the book?"
"Beneath the inside cover, unless I'm very much mistaken. When I looked at it in the library just now, it seemed to have been recently resealed."
"But what is it? And why did someone go to such trouble to hide it?"
"It is a letter from a lover to his mistress, quite an ordinary love letter, save that it mentions, almost in passing, the existence of a child. And I imagine the lady went to such pains to hide it because she was Jane Shore and her lover was Edward IV."
Dead silence greeted Owen's announcement, followed by a medley of questions and exclamations. It was Charles who went to the heart of the matter. "Edward IV died in 1483. Didn't you say the book probably dated from 1489?"
Owen nodded. "The letter undoubtedly predates the book. One can never know exactly what happened, but I suspect Jane Shore kept it as a keepsake and only decided to hide it later, sometime after Bos worth. By 1489 a relationship to a Yorkist was as much a liability as an asset. She must have felt her child's safety was best guaranteed by anonymity, yet she couldn't bring herself to destroy the letter." He turned t
o Henrique. "How in God's name did you know it was there?"
"I was not at all certain that it would be, Mr. Thorn. But I knew from my father that this book had once been the property of a woman called Jane Shore. I never gave the matter much thought, but when I learned Raimundo was on his way to England to collect the book, I asked some English friends who this Jane Shore was. I learned that there was a story —probably apocryphal, my friends told me—that she bore Edward a child and that he referred to the child in a letter he wrote to her. The letter had never come to light. I began to wonder about Jane Shore's book. I had already realized it would be easy enough for me to lure Raimundo away and take his place. He smiled apologetically at the whole company. "It seemed too good an opportunity to miss."
"Honestly, Bella," Amanda said sharply. "I said the gingerbread wasn't for us to eat."
Abashed, Bella Lydgate put the half-eaten gingerbread back on one of the plates of holiday treats and favors which were crowded on the breakfast-parlor table, waiting to be placed in Christmas baskets.
"Now that you've taken a bite you might as well finish it," Amanda said with a sigh, surveying the filled baskets which were strewn on the sideboard and windows seats, and wondering how many more would be
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required to accommodate all the children who were to visit Ludlow this afternoon. It was a Windham family custom to hold open house for their tenants on Boxing Day. Each family was given a Christmas box when they departed, and all the children received baskets of favors.
Bella took the gingerbread back and ate it with such a subdued expression that Amanda regretted her sharpness. "Pm sorry," she said, ruffling the little girl's hair. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm feeling a bit out of sorts this morning."
"I suppose it's because you got to bed so late last night." Verity was tying lengths of satin ribbon around the finished baskets with practiced fingers. "I think I like the Senhor Ribeiro we have now better than the other one."
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