‘Are you ready, Hartwick?’ she asked, eyeing the string the Dowager was holding out to him.
‘I’m ready.’ He grabbed it with his right hand. The fine metal thread running through the string sparkled in the candlelight.
The Dowager took her place on the other side of Miss Forrester and then everyone else began to hold hands. Mr Forrester had agreed to turn the crank and Lady Everill stood beside him, not willing to give up her bloody reticule.
He cranked the machine slowly. After about a minute, a warm buzzing feeling moved through Hart’s body. Miss Forrester must have felt it, too, since she let out a low, pleasant laugh. Their eyes met. Then his eyes dropped to her soft, pink lips that were a bit too full for her delicate features.
He had heard about the reputed electric kiss from Theodosia. She had attended the Duchess of Skeffington’s electrical soirée and told him that her husband had tried to kiss her after they had used the electricity machine and a spark of electrical fire had impeded him from touching her lips. He wondered if Miss Forrester’s lips held a spark and found he had the strongest urge to see if it would stop him from kissing her. Deep down he didn’t believe it would.
Certainly the electricity was affecting his brain if he was noticing Miss Forrester’s lips. He should not be looking at her lips or noticing how nicely her hand fit inside his. Yes, they were probably under the influence of too much electricity.
He dropped the string and the warm tingly feeling stopped. There were low groans from the other guests who seemed to be enjoying the unusual sensation.
The Dowager released Miss Forrester’s hand and approached the table with small pieces of paper scattered about. She ran her hand a few inches above the paper and the small squares rose up into her palm as if by magic. Everyone wanted to try it and it wasn’t until he went to move his hand over the papers that Hart realised he was still holding Miss Forrester’s hand. He quickly dropped it, surprising them both with the immediacy of his action.
‘I say, Hartwick,’ she said, hovering her hand over the table, ‘this is just what you would find if you walked through Almack’s on a Wednesday. I bet if you did, women would attach themselves to you like this paper.’
‘Are you volunteering, Miss Forrester? You could save me the trip.’
‘To attach myself to you? Heavens, no, although it would be amusing to be a spectator at such an event.’ She turned away from him without waiting for a reply.
It was no wonder the woman found herself still unmarried at whatever age she was. What man would want to manage a woman like that?
Chapter Five
As she sat by the window in her bedchamber the next morning, Sarah’s vision was beginning to blur from staring at the drawing of the bracelet for so long. How could she possibly hope to spare her parents more heartbreak, if she couldn’t manage to decipher the only clue she had to the diamond’s whereabouts? When Katrina arrived shortly after breakfast and suggested they take a stroll through Hyde Park, Sarah was grateful for the reprieve. It was overcast and not the ideal weather to be outside, but it would give Sarah’s mind a much-needed break.
‘I hope you don’t mind that I’ve called so early,’ Katrina said as they strolled the deserted pathway that ran alongside the bridle path of Rotten Row.
‘I was awake with the sun. You could have called then,’ Sarah said with a small smile.
‘I’ve missed our walks.’
The admission warmed Sarah because she had missed them, too, since Katrina had had Augusta. ‘Are you certain there will not be any unexpected occurrences?’ She looked pointedly at her friend’s chest.
‘No, I just fed Augusta before I called on you. I’ve learned my lesson and now have been taking note of the times she eats. I won’t have to be back home for at least another three hours. Have you had time to look at the drawing of the bracelet? Have you determined how to use it?’
Sarah looked up through the branches at the large grey clouds, searching for a spot of sunlight. ‘I was so certain I could do this, but I’ve studied that drawing and I’m no closer in finding the diamond now than I was before.’
‘Maybe you should tell your parents. Perhaps they will take the news better than you think.’
Sarah shook her head with determination. The cinnamon-coloured ribbon of her bonnet swished behind her. ‘You did not see them after we learned of Alexander’s death. The only thing that finally gave them some sense of peace was their belief that he died a noble death, doing what he loved. And that he died sacrificing himself so the people of Baltimore would be safe. I cannot take that away from them. I do not know how they will react when they find out none of that is true. I cannot bear for them to go back to grieve as they did.’
Katrina nodded.
It was bewildering to Sarah how Katrina had been able to marry Julian and move away from her father and her country, especially since her father was a widower. Sarah could never do that. She was all her parents had left of their family. Granted, Katrina’s father was no longer in diplomatic service and was able to visit her whenever he chose, for as long as he liked. But Sarah’s father planned to resume his career in Washington when his mission in London was over. He would be tied to that position and it would be impossible for her parents to spend months away from Washington to visit her here. She could never marry an Englishman and live an ocean away from them. Some day one of them would need her to help them get through the loss of the other.
‘Why don’t you tell me what you’ve learned about the bracelet?’ Katrina said. ‘It may help to discuss it.’
She rubbed her aching forehead. ‘There are five separate square links. The first, third and fifth links are gold squares engraved with a Greek key pattern. The second is a painting of a bridge with a pagoda. The fourth is a painting of a steeple one would see atop a church. And that is all I have to find the diamond.’
‘Do you think it’s a map of sorts? I mean the two paintings. You did say the first was a bridge.’
‘That is my belief, but I’m not familiar enough with London to identify those images. In addition, there’s no certainty those locations are even in London.’ Her stomach began doing that queasy flip again.
‘That is much too depressing a thought. Let’s assume they are here. You mentioned the bridge had a pagoda. That should help identify it.’
‘It should, however I’ve never seen a pagoda on any bridge I’ve crossed here. Have you?’
Katrina shook her head. ‘Lady Everill mentioned her husband thought she would enjoy the bracelet because it brought back fond memories.’
‘Perhaps she is simply fond of the oriental style.’
‘No, we have to believe wherever this bridge is located, Lady Everill has seen it.’
‘Do you know where their country estate is located?’
‘Herefordshire, I believe.’
‘Perhaps it is there?’
‘Perhaps.’
Sarah searched the grey clouds looming larger and darker now. There was no sense in going farther. ‘We should return home,’ she said. ‘I believe a storm is on its way.’
As if she had been unaware of the poor weather, Katrina raised her head to the sky. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ She threaded her arm through Sarah’s and they turned back towards the park’s entrance. ‘And what of the steeple? Did it look at all familiar?’
‘In truth, I don’t believe I’ve ever really taken notice of any. I’ve never had a reason to look up at them until now.’
‘And you believe it is the steeple of a church?’
‘I’m assuming,’ Sarah replied with a sigh.
‘Do not be discouraged. I will speak with Eleanor this evening. She might know more about Lady Everill’s attachment to the bracelet.’
‘Julian’s grandmother is too perceptive. I cannot have her finding out why I
need to know more about the bracelet.’
‘I would never reveal your secret to anyone! And I am well aware how perceptive that woman is. Trust that I can make enquiries without disclosing my purpose. I can handle Eleanor. I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow.’
Sarah hoped so. But as they travelled the remaining pathway in silence, the sky grew darker and darker.
* * *
That night, while Sarah was tossing and turning in her sleep, Hart kept to the shadows of a Mayfair mews with his friend Lord Andrew Pearce. He was grateful no one was about to deter him from breaking into Rundell & Bridge. It might be days before Andrew would be available to stand guard for him again outside the shop’s back door. Knowing Mr Rundell lived in the apartment above, they were conscious to keep their voices low.
‘I doubt my brother would approve of this if he knew what we were doing,’ Andrew commented casually while he leaned his imposing frame against the brick wall of the shop, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black coat.
Prinny had told him to keep this search for the diamond a secret, even from Andrew’s brother who was responsible for the secret organisation that protected the crown.
‘Winter hasn’t approved of many things you and I have done together and not all of those have been in service to the crown.’
Andrew scanned the alleyway again. ‘True... I’d say you timed this perfectly. No one is about. However, be warned—if I see someone coming, I might have to draw your cork.’
‘There is no need for bloodshed. We could simply pretend I’m vomiting.’
‘Where is the fun in that?’
Hart tugged off his leather gloves and stuffed them into his coat pockets, preferring to work the thin, metal lock-picking tools with his fingers unencumbered. A slight breeze lifted strands of his hair as he knelt at the door. His own breathing was mixed with the sound of Andrew’s tapping foot and the distant rumble of carriages on cobblestones.
The thrill of possibly getting caught raced through his body. His heart was pounding. He felt alive and it was glorious.
‘How long do you think this will take?’ Andrew asked, switching the foot he had propped against the wall.
‘Hopefully not long.’
‘Are you returning something or retrieving?’
‘I think it best if I don’t say.’
‘Very well, but be quick about it, will you? It smells like rain.’
After a few tries with the lock pins, he heard the welcome click. The door opened without a sound and he slipped inside.
It appeared to be the shop’s office, which was rather small and square. A partner’s desk stood to his left with two glass oil lamps, two ornate silver inkwells and what might be ledger books sitting on top. To his right, in front of the window, was a low wooden workbench with various magnifiers and numerous other tools. Below was a worn, wooden cabinet with long, thin drawers. Ahead was a dark velvet curtain covering a narrow doorway, which Hart assumed led to the shop.
Then he spotted the safe tucked into the corner. The polished steel was glowing in the dim light, calling to him. This was where they would keep their precious stock overnight and where Hart should find Lady Everill’s bracelet. It resembled an ornately carved, six-foot-tall, steel-plated wardrobe with two doors that opened in the centre. He had seen safes like this before. His own father had one and it was what Hart had practised his lock-picking skills on when he was younger.
Experience had taught him that it had a trip mechanism, and if he pushed the pin in the wrong direction a second lock would secure itself and make it almost impossible to break into. He needed to be careful and poke gently while he listened for the sound of the spring of the second lock.
He studied the size of the keyhole and selected the appropriate size pin. Then he went to work, pausing often to listen for the unwelcome sound of the spring. When he heard the bolt shift without tripping the second lock, he congratulated himself on a job well done.
Upon opening the doors he was faced with approximately twenty long horizontal drawers. He started with the top drawer, needing to stand on a chair to see the contents. The light was dim and he was forced to squint to look for the bracelet he had seen Lady Everill hold briefly before hiding it away. After scanning several drawers, he found the bracelet, lying beside two broken necklaces and a watch. Without delay he wrapped it in a handkerchief, placed it in his pocket and closed up the safe.
As he turned to make his way to the back door, the wooden floor beneath his boots creaked. He froze as ice spread through his veins. Was that movement above? Just the idea of breathing made him sweat. He looked at the ceiling, as if he could see Mr Rundell making his way to the staircase leading to the shop. Hart had a choice. He could run for the door or hide under the desk. Running seemed like the better option.
He strained to hear any sound from above. There was silence. Before he moved again, Hart counted to four. The silence continued. He gingerly made his way out the door.
‘Have you accomplished what you set out to do?’ Andrew asked, pushing himself off the wall.
‘I have.’
‘Good, you can buy me a drink at White’s.’
‘Can’t tonight, but I’ll have a bottle of Julian’s finest brandy sent up to your set.’ Andrew resided at Albany, as well. He should have the brandy within the hour.
‘You’re planning on getting a bottle of Lyonsdale’s brandy now?’
Hart gave a careless wave of his hand as they waked out of the mews. ‘No, I’m already in possession of one...or two. I’ll have Chomersley bring it to you.’
‘Tomorrow will do. I find I’m not ready to return home quite yet.’
They parted ways at Piccadilly. Andrew turned towards St James’s Street and the gentlemen’s clubs as Hart headed home, eager to study the bracelet.
As he made his way along the pavement, his broad, satisfied smile would not go away. Excitement was racing through his body. He lived for moments like this—they made him feel alive.
The image of Miss Forrester flashed in his mind, her delicate hand warming his. It was gone in an instant, but it had been there—and it made him stop walking with the absurdity of it. The palm of his left hand, the one that had held hers, tingled. It was a residual effect of the electricity...nothing more.
He turned into the drive leading to the building tucked back from Piccadilly where he had been residing for the past year. A light was shining in his window on the top floor. Chomersley, his valet, had taken to leaving an oil lamp lit for him while he was out. It was an unnecessary waste of fuel, however it was nice not to have to walk into his set without stumbling around in the dark.
Making his way up the two steps into the entrance hall, Hart patted his pocket, secure in the knowledge he soon would be able to settle his debt. When he opened his door, he dismissed Chomersley with a wave of his hand and told the man to get some sleep. He got undressed, donned his black brocade banyan, brought the oil lamp to his desk and took out the bracelet.
This was the first time he had got a good look at it. The lamplight reflected off the five square gold links. Two of the links were painted porcelain. The other three were engraved with a Greek key design. All of them were made of solid gold, so nothing could be stored inside. He studied the first panel and looked at the small painting of a bridge with a pagoda. He knew he had seen that bridge before.
All the excitement that had been pulsing through his veins had left him and now he could barely keep his eyes open. According to the clock on the mantel, it was four in the morning. He would sleep on it, knowing in the morning he would recall where that bridge was located.
He extinguished the lantern, crawled beneath the blankets and stretched out in the middle of his bed. Within minutes he was asleep, knowing that within a day or two, Prinny would have the diamond and Hart would be commended for a job well
done.
Chapter Six
The morning light pushed its way through the soft white curtains in the drawing room of the Forresters’ town house, making the yellow walls appear even brighter. Sarah sat in the jonquil brocade chair near the window, trying to read but having no luck. Each sound from the hallway would catch her attention and she would stare at the doorway, hoping to hear news of Katrina’s arrival. Minutes turned to hours. The light shifted along the Aubusson rug. She was beginning to give up hope that the Dowager knew where the mysterious bridge was located when she was informed that Katrina had arrived.
Her mother lifted her head from where her attention had been focused on the embroidery on her lap and smiled. ‘Now, that should lift your spirits. You’ve been fidgeting in that chair all morning. If the book was not to your liking, you should have found something else to occupy your time. Perhaps you should suggest a walk in the garden to Katrina. Being out of doors might do you some good.’
Katrina entered the room and her gaze held Sarah’s a bit too long as she joined Sarah’s mother on the sofa. She had news! They spoke of the health of the Dowager, Augusta and Katrina’s need for a good night’s sleep. All the while, Sarah’s blue-slippered foot tapped the floor. As far as she was concerned, no one had had as few hours of sleep as she of late.
Finally, there was a lull in the conversation, giving Sarah the opportunity to ask Katrina to join her for a walk in the garden.
‘What a wonderful idea,’ Katrina replied, ‘but perhaps on a fine day such as this we could walk through St James’s Park. I’ve never been, but I’ve been told it’s rather lovely with a charming bridge spanning a lake. We can take my carriage to the entrance and then enjoy the pathways.’
Sarah almost felt light-headed. Katrina had found the bridge. It took great restraint not to run over and hug her. ‘That sounds lovely.’
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