Mrs. Merriweather nodded. “I rather thought you would. The colonel told me what he overheard. I should like to go through your father’s papers, as well. I shall be most curious to see what we might find.”
16
In another part of town, three men sat in Thornsby’s office. Thornsby, Stanfield, and Merriweather all stared at one another. None of them looked entirely at ease. It was Stanfield who broke the ice, so to speak.
“It is absurd to continue to act independently when we could accomplish a great deal more by being allies,” the captain said. To Thornsby he added, “I know we are supposed to be sworn to secrecy, but circumstances have made that impossible. We ought to make the best of things and turn them to our advantage. I, for one, am very glad to know that Colonel Merriweather can be depended upon, should we manage to entrap the thieves.”
“Thank you, Stanfield,” Colonel Merriweather said dryly. “And I find, after the events of the past few days, including two murders, that I quite agree. Do you know,” he addressed Thornsby, “whether anyone has shown a particular interest in museum artifacts? Other than scholars, of course?”
“A number of people,” Thornsby said grimly, “have been heard to oppose the public acquisition of new exhibits for the museum. Some of them are trying, as they see it, to be fiscally prudent on behalf of the nation. Others, we believe, simply do not want competition for their own extensive collections of artifacts. We are trying to narrow down the fist, but so far it is extremely difficult to do so.”
“Do you know of someone named Kinkaid?” Merri- weather asked.
Thornsby nodded. “He is on our list. He is a well- known collector who takes pride in showing off his collection. It is rumored that he has a private collection, as well, that far exceeds in scope and merit his public one. But since it is private, we have not had a chance to verify the truth of that rumor. He is apparently very selective as to whom he is willing to show his private treasures. Why do you ask?”
“He was at Lady Jersey’s last night and claimed friendship with Hawthorne. Offered to help go through his papers. Even warned m’wife to encourage Miss Hawthorne to leave London for a bit,” Merriweather explained grimly. “So I wondered.”
“Kinkaid is a favorite of Prinny’s,” Captain Stanfield said slowly. “I suppose this means that no one would dare press him on this or any other matter?”
Thornsby nodded. Colonel Merriweather took up the thread. “So it is up to us, then, to find the kind of proof we would need to put a stop to Kinkaid, if he has had a hand in the thefts at the museum.”
“And remember,” Thornsby warned, “that we are not certain he has. In the past, so far as we know, he has seemed quite content to merely outbid other collectors for what he wishes to have.”
“If he is behind this, we shall find out,” Stanfield said with the certainty of youth.
“If he is, we shall do our best to discover proof,” Merriweather added with the caution of age. “Someone I know will look into who is creating the false artifacts substituted for the stolen ones. That may help as well.” Thornsby nodded again. “I depend upon you both and have complete confidence that you shall do so. Keep me informed—and be careful,” he added. “Anyone who has already killed twice is not likely to hesitate to kill once or twice more.”
The two men nodded. “We both have reason,” Stanfield said soberly, “to wish to come safely through this affair.”
Startled, Thornsby peered at him more closely. “You have never said so before.”
Stanfield met his superior’s gaze. In a calm and steady voice he said, “I have never had reason to say so before. This time I do.”
“Well, I am not displeased to hear it,” Thornsby admitted heavily. “In the past, if you have had one flaw, it was that I thought you too reckless. I shall be delighted if that truly has changed. Well, if there is nothing more, gentlemen, you may leave.”
Captain Stanfield and Colonel Merriweather rose to their feet and quietly left the building. Once outside they paused. “Where to now?” the captain asked. “The museum?”
Merriweather shook his head. “Call it a hunch,” he said. “Between what was said to me and to Mrs. Merriweather and to Miss Hawthorne last night at Lady Jersey’s party, it seems there is a great deal of interest in Hawthorne’s papers. And not the ones, I should guess, still at the museum, since someone went through Hawthorne’s office the day he died. It may be that something other than his scholarly work is at issue here. And if so, he may have kept those particular papers at home. After all, it was there that you and my wife and Miss Hawthorne routed a thief the day of Hawthorne’s death. I cannot think it likely that it was a coincidence.”
The Dearborns were still at Hawthorne’s house and they both exclaimed sharply at Ariel and Mrs. Merri- weather’s appearance. This did not please the former governess.
“Yes, yes,” she said. “Our gowns are past repair, I know. But that is unimportant. Miss Hawthorne and I need to work in her father’s library and we do not wish to be disturbed.”
“Not even if callers come?” Mrs. Dearborn asked doubtfully.
“Have there been many callers?” Ariel asked.
“Some. Most persistent, some of them be. But I send them to the rightabout quick enough, I promise you. Tells them, I do, the miss ain’t home and not likely to be for some time.”
“Thank you,” Ariel said.
“Can you tell us what they look like?” Mrs. Merri- weather asked.
Dearborn gave as good a description as he could, but it was one that might have applied to any number of gentlemen in London. With a tiny sigh, Ariel and Mrs. Merriweather gave it up as hopeless and went into the library.
“We do not wish to be disturbed,” Mrs. Merriweather repeated. “Miss Hawthorne is not at home to callers, no matter who they may be.”
It was Mrs. Dearborn who replied, “Yes, ma’am. You may depend upon us.”
And so Ariel and Mrs. Merriweather found themselves free to go through her father’s desk in the library. They tried to work quickly, though they were not at all certain what it was they were looking for.
“I wonder,” Ariel said when she paused for a moment, “what Colonel Merriweather and Captain Stanfield will make of the attack upon us this morning.”
Mrs. Merriweather turned a horrified look upon her. “I thought we were agreed not to tell them.”
Ariel frowned. “Yes, but I have been thinking. Should we not put them on their guard?” she asked.
It was a sensible question. Mrs. Merriweather knew only too well that it was a sensible one. But she shifted uncomfortably and refused to meet Ariel’s eyes. “They would only worry, far too much, I assure you, and attempt to curtail our quite natural wish to be involved in the investigation,” the former governess said airily. “It is for their own good, and ours, that we do not tell them.”
Ariel did not argue any further, but privately she made her own decision. She would not betray Mrs. Merriweather to the colonel, but the moment she had a chance to speak to Captain Stanfield alone, she would tell him everything. Someone must put the men on their guard, after all. What if some harm should come to either of them because she did not?
The opportunity came far sooner than she expected, for scarcely had she finished making this resolve than the door to the library opened. Both ladies turned to chastise the Dearborns for allowing visitors but stopped as they realized it was Colonel Merriweather and Captain Stanfield who were standing in the open doorway.
“Marian?” the colonel asked, a warning in his voice.
“Miss Hawthorne! What are you and Mrs. Merriweather doing here?” Captain Stanfield demanded. “Do neither of you realize how dangerous it might be?”
Ariel hesitated, not quite certain how to answer. Mrs. Merriweather, however, got a gleam in her eye, and she advanced upon the two men. “What are you doing here? That is what I should like to know!” she countered. “Were you trying to steal a march upon us?”
Captain Stanfield
started to object, but the colonel held up a hand to stop him. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and addressed his wife with admirable calm.
“You know very well, Marian, that you ought not to be here,” he said. “You and Miss Hawthorne were supposed to pay a few social calls and then return home. And do not tell me that I did not specify which home, for you know very well how I would feel about you placing yourself, and Miss Hawthorne, in the path of danger!”
Captain Stanfield, meanwhile, had been studying both ladies closely. Now he said in a slow, careful voice, “Miss Hawthorne, what happened to you and Mrs. Merriweather?”
Ariel looked at the former governess, shrugged as if to say she had no choice, and then told him. “We think someone tried to kill us this morning.”
“What?” The exclamation came from both men.
“What the devil do you mean?” Colonel Merriweather asked grimly when she did not immediately answer.
He looked at his wife, but once again it was Ariel who answered. “As Mrs. Merriweather and I were leaving the home of one of her former charges, someone pushed us both in front of a carriage that was racing down the street.”
“Are you all right?” Captain Stanfield demanded, coming over to where she stood and peering down at her face with a searching look.
This time it was Mrs. Merriweather who replied. She did not trouble to hide the exasperation she felt as she said, “Miss Hawthorne is perfectly all right. We are both perfectly all right. Well, except for quite a few bruises,” she amended, when the colonel glared at her. “And it might have simply been an accident.”
The men quite properly ignored this caveat.
“You were quite right to tell us,” Captain Stanfield said to Ariel. “We shall be able to be on our guard now. I am also,” he added, lowering his voice, “so very glad that you were not hurt. That neither you, nor Mrs. Merriweather, were hurt,” he amended hastily.
“Did you see what the person who pushed you looked like?” Colonel Merriweather demanded.
Both Ariel and Mrs. Merriweather shook their heads. “There was no time for us to take note of anything, and in any event, he was behind us,” Ariel replied.
“Barbara—Lady Farrington—was watching from the window,” Mrs. Merriweather added with a frown. “But she said she could see nothing of the man’s features, either. Barbara thought that he had some sort of hat pulled down over his head, and that he moved a trifle hunched over. But she could not say what his height might be, nor describe any of the features of his face.”
“A pity,” Colonel Merriweather told her grimly. “I should like very much to speak to the fellow.”
“As would I,” Captain Stanfield said, still looking at 141
Ariel. To her, he added, “You needn’t worry. I shall make certain that nothing happens to you.”
“That is all very well, and I hope you may succeed in doing so, Captain Stanfield,” the colonel said in acid tones. “But what I should like to know, Marian, is how the pair of you escaped being hurt worse!”
Ariel colored up at that and said hastily, “Oh, we were very lucky. But the point is that someone tried to push us in front of the carriage and so we must all be on our guard.”
“Yes, yes. We will be on our guard,” the colonel agreed. “But I repeat, Marian, how did the pair of you escape being hurt any worse?”
Mrs. Merriweather looked at Ariel and then at the colonel. “Do not act as if you think I did something extraordinary,” she told him tartly, “for I did not. It was Miss Hawthorne who showed the quickness of wit to grab on to me and roll us both safely to the other side of the street. And now,” she said before the two men could say anything more, “you had best excuse us. Miss Hawthorne and I must return to Lady Merriweather’s house so that she may change her dress before Captain Stanfield escorts her to his mother’s house.”
“My mother!” Stanfield exclaimed. “I’d almost forgotten! Miss Hawthorne, perhaps I should accompany you. That way, the moment you are ready, we may be on our way. If, that is, we may borrow your carriage?” he asked the colonel.
“Yes, of course, Stanfield,” Merriweather said with a nod. He turned to his wife and added sharply, “And you, Marian, may remain here with me. I am certain the captain will be happy to send the carriage back after he is done with it. And there is a great deal of work to be done here. You may as well help me to do it.”
It was, odd as it seemed, a peace offering from the colonel to his wife, and she gratefully accepted. Stanfield escorted Ariel out to the carriage, and soon they were on their way to Lady Merriweather’s town house. “Do you think you will be able to slip upstairs unseen?” Captain Stanfield asked doubtfully.
“I shall certainly try. The last thing I would wish is for the servants or Lady Merriweather to ask questions!” Ariel replied fervently.
It was then that Stanfield realized what was bothering him. “You’ve lost your spectacles,” he said.
Ariel grimaced. “Yes, they came off when we were rolling across the street. They were shattered so badly that there was no point in attempting to retrieve them.”
“Yes, but . . ”
“But what?” Ariel prodded him when he stopped.
“You don’t seem to have any trouble seeing!” Stanfield said in a burst of words.
Ariel colored up. She looked away and then back at him again. There was more than a little guilt in her voice as she tried to explain.
“When Papa first took me to the museum with him, no one wished to have me there. No matter how soberly I dressed, they thought me a frivolous creature, a nuisance and nothing more. And then, one day, I chanced to put Papa’s spectacles upon my nose. I meant it just as a lark, you see. But then I found that people treated me differently when I wore the spectacles. Almost as if they could believe I did know something of what they were talking about. And so Papa and I hit upon the notion of having spectacles made for me that had clear glass in them. That way they did not interfere with my eyes but gave me the serious look that was needed.”
Stanfield stared at her. After a moment he began to laugh. At her look of indignation, he laughed even harder. “Oh, Miss Hawthorne,” he said, “you are a true original. And to think I never guessed they were plain glass, those spectacles you clung to so fervently.”
Ariel was spared having to answer, for they were at Lady Merriweather’s town house. She managed to slip up the stairs unseen, and Stanfield was left to cool his heels in the drawing room under Lady Merriweather’s interested gaze. In the short time he waited for Ariel, that redoubtable lady managed to extract from the captain every pertinent detail as to his breeding, income, and future prospects. She was, he thought, more persuasive and skilled than any military agent he had ever known.
William might have wished himself elsewhere, particularly since the ordeal with his mother lay ahead. But still he stared almost in awe when Miss Hawthorne reappeared dressed in a gown of dark green silk that seemed to swirl about her as she walked and showed off her figure to great advantage. Her hair was piled upon her head in a most becoming way, and she carried the most fetching bonnet he had ever seen. She looked remarkably different, he thought, than she had such a short time before!
Indeed, so awed was he, that William almost forgot to rise to his feet to greet her. A glare from Lady Merri- weather brought him to his senses, and he hastily stood and bowed.
“Are you ready, Miss Hawthorne?” he managed to ask.
She nodded and put on her bonnet. Then he offered her his arm and she took it with another smile. William was startled to realize that he found himself trying to think of even more ways to elicit such a delightful look from her.
It alarmed him even more to realize that it did not alarm him to know that Lady Merriweather was regarding the pair of them with obvious approval. And, to a man who had sworn often and fluently that he never meant to marry, those looks should have sent him flying as far away as fast as possible!
With an effort, Stanfield reined in his though
ts. He was quiet as he handed Miss Hawthorne into the carriage and gave his mother’s direction to the coachman. It was imperative, he told himself, that he muster a clear head before they arrived at his mother’s house. It would not do to feed her matchmaking plans any further!
Miss Hawthorne touched his arm. “You seem distracted,” she said. “Are you upset that your mother invited me to come see her today? Ought I to have cried off? It is not too late, if that is what you wish me to do.” William could hear the concern in her voice, and he immediately tried to reassure her. “No,” he said, smiling as warmly as he could. “If you had tried to cry off, my mother would simply have found another means to get you alone so that she could get to know you better. Once she has a notion in her head, it is pointless to try to dissuade her.”
Miss Hawthorne frowned. “But she seems determined to believe that you and I—”
She broke off, clearly too embarrassed to say bluntly what she meant. William took her hand in his. “If you mean that my mother is matchmaking and wishes to see if you and I have an understanding, you are correct.”
“Y-you don’t mind that she thinks that?” Miss Hawthorne asked.
William hesitated. He did, of course. But he could not say so. Not when Miss Hawthorne was looking at him with such distress in her eyes.
“My mother,” he said slowly, “has been matchmaking for me for years. She will not accept that I do not wish to be married. This way she will focus her plans on you, and I know that I can count on your common sense to prevent you from being taken in by her schemes.”
Miss Tibbles Interferes Page 14