"Housebreakers!" A plump, grey-haired woman wrapped in layers of ruffles stiffened indignantly. "At my house party! I won't have it, Mr. Bramingham!"
"Of course not, my dear," the heavy man said, patting her arm. "Good job, Marston; I see you've caught one." He eyed Stuggs's bulk with evident misgiving. "He looks a desperate rogue. Just hold him off a minute more, til Henry gets here with the shotgun."
"What? No, no, Bramingham, that's not a burglar," Jasper said, clearly taken aback. "That's my man, Stuggs."
"Jasper!" Lady Granleigh pushed her way to the front of the crowd and came toward him across the room, hands outstretched. "Dear boy, were you injured?" Her expression was at variance with her concerned tone, and as she came nearer, Kim saw her soundlessly mouth the words "Did you get it?"
"Yes," said Jasper. "I mean no, not at all. Ah, Amelia . . ." He gestured toward the sofa.
Amelia glanced down. She looked at Jasper and rolled her eyes heavenward. "The very thought of your ordeal makes me feel faint," she declared, and sat down on top of the tray, spreading out her robe so that it was completely hidden.
"Clever woman," Mairelon murmured. "Pity she's not on our side."
"Shh!" Kim hissed. "You want to get us caught?"
"Amelia, dear!" Mrs. Bramingham said, hurrying over.
"Faint? Lady Granleigh never faints!" a bluff voice said, and a distinguished-looking man pushed his way through the crowd of servants and visitors. He was fully dressed, which perhaps accounted for his tardiness, and there was mud on his boots. "I'm afraid they got away, Bramingham," he said. "That boy of yours is still chasing them, but I don't see that he has much chance of catching up with them in the dark."
Mrs. Bramingham gave a faint, lady like shriek. "Henry! My son is out there with those villains? I won't have it! Bring him back at once, Mr. Bramingham."
"Of course, my dear," Mr. Bramingham said, making not the slightest move to do so. "Did you see them yourself, Lord Granleigh?"
"Somebody was running off through the woods," Lord Granleigh replied. "I doubt that anyone got a good look at him, though. Now, what's this about Lady Granleigh fainting? You're not ill, are you, my dear?"
"I shall be quite all right in a moment," Lady Granleigh said, leaning back against the cushions. She looked nervous, and Kim wondered whether her husband knew that she and her brother were trying to steal Henry's tray.
"I can carry you up to your room," Lord Granleigh offered, plainly concerned.
"No, no, I shall do much better here," Lady Granleigh assured him. "Perhaps if you sent Marianne to me . . ."
"Mademoiselle Marianne is in the saloon, having the hysterics."
Heads turned toward a lovely young woman standing in the doorway. A lace cap lay like a snowflake on her auburn hair, and the pale green wrap that covered her nightdress set off her slender figure better than a ball gown. Kim felt Mairelon stiffen. "Renee?" he breathed in tones of horrified disbelief.
"Me, I do not see that having the hysterics is of any use whatever, and I have a great wish to know whether we are to be murdered in our beds, so I have left her with her maid," the auburn vision went on. "I think that her maid is very nearly as silly as she is, so they will go on well together. What has happened?"
A confused babble of voices greeted this question. Lady Granleigh objected that her dear Marianne was not in the least silly; Mrs. Bramingham offered some complaint about her son; Jasper launched into a highly colored and very jumbled account of the way in which he had run the ruffians off; Mr. Bramingham made a series of vague and contradictory statements that seemed intended to be reassuring. The auburn-haired woman listened with an appearance of polite interest, though it was impossible to understand more than one word in six. Finally Mr. Bramingham put a stop to it.
"Enough!" he roared. "Miss D'Auber, I must apologize; it has been a very trying night."
So the auburn-haired woman was the infamous Renee D'Auber, whom Mairelon had gone to visit the night before they left London! Kim could not keep from glancing in the magician's direction, but it was too dark in the cupboard to make out his expression. Frowning a little, she returned to her contemplation of the scene in the library.
"It seems to me that of a certainty someone has been trying something tonight," Mademoiselle D'Auber said into the silence that followed Mr. Bramingham's bellow. "But I do not yet know what."
Mr. Bramingham attempted a gallant bow, the effect of which was somewhat spoiled by the belt of his dressing gown, which chose that moment to come undone and flap around his knees. "Nothing that need cause you concern, Miss D'Auber."
"Father!" Henry Bramingham burst into the room with a nod and a quick "Beg pardon" as he passed Renee D'Auber. His eyes were bright with excitement, and in one hand he held a dirt-covered pistol. Bits of earth and grass dropped from the pistol to the carpet as he waved it triumphantly before the eyes of the assembly. "We didn't catch him, but we found this on the South Walk."
"Henry!" shrieked his mother. "What do you mean by bringing that filthy object into the library?"
"I told you he had a gun!" Jasper said.
"Coo!" whispered one of the housemaids, who was standing wide-eyed in a corner, drinking in the uproar.
"Henry, you're upsetting the ladies," Mr. Bramingham said.
"I'm sorry; I didn't think." Henry looked down at the pistol as if he would have liked to hide it under his coat.
Mademoiselle D'Auber's eyebrows rose. "I see that Mademoiselle Marianne is perhaps not so foolish as I thought, unless your South Walk grows pistols, which is a thing unlikely. But do you say that this person has escaped?"
"Nothing to worry about, Miss D'Auber," Mr. Bramingham said. "If you'll just let us handle this--"
"But I do not see that you are handling it," Renee D'Auber pointed out. "And perhaps this villain has a second pistol and will come back to kill us all in our beds! I do not at all like this idea, me, and I will not spend another night in this house."
"Oh, no, Mademoiselle D'Auber, you mustn't leave!" Mrs. Bramingham turned in distress from her unwelcomed ministrations to Lady Granleigh. "Why, you've only just arrived!"
"I shall leave in the morning," Renee announced, and swept out of the room.
"There! See what you've done!" Mrs. Bramingham said crossly to Henry after a moment's silence.
"What I've done!" The look Henry gave his mother was full of righteous indignation. "I didn't break into the library and smash up the display cases. I didn't go dropping pistols in the South Walk. I suppose you'd rather I hadn't chased off the fellow who did!"
"I believe I am going to faint," Lady Granleigh announced loudly. The company turned to look at her and she sank back against the sofa, fanning herself with one hand. "If I could have a little peace," she said in failing tones, "I might be able to recover."
"Of course, Amelia, dear!" Mrs. Bramingham said. "Mr. Bramingham, take these people into the green saloon. I'll just get my hartshorn--"
"Alone," Lady Granleigh said with amazing firmness for a purported invalid.
"But, Lady Granleigh--" Mr. Bramingham began, frowning.
"Very well," Lady Granleigh sighed, cutting him off. "If you insist, I will allow Jasper to remain in case those villains reappear. But I must have quiet."
"But Mr. Marston was going to explain--"
Lady Granleigh raised a hand to her head. "Can it not wait?"
Mr. Bramingham blinked, then shook his head. "Yes, of course, Lady Granleigh, as you say. Come along, my dear. Henry, take that thing to the morning room; I'll come by in a minute or two. Come along, everyone, we must let Lady Granleigh recover."
Lord Granleigh gave his wife a penetrating look, but allowed himself to be shepherded out of the room along with the rest. Only Jasper and his "man" Stuggs remained behind. As the door closed behind the crowd, Lady Granleigh stood up briskly.
"Ah, Amelia, hadn't you better--I mean, what if someone comes back in and sees you?" Jasper stuttered. "You're supposed to be in a faint."
"I am not going to sit on that object for another instant," Lady Granleigh replied. "And if it had not been for your ineptitude, I would not have had to. What possessed you to rouse the household like this?"
"I didn't rouse the household, and if you'd listen for half a minute, you'd know it," Jasper said bitterly. "It was that Bedlamite in the domino with his pistol and his--"
"I am not interested in excuses," Lady Granleigh interrupted. "There will be time for that later. Right now we must decide what to do with this platter. We can't just carry it up to your room, you know. The halls are full of servants; it will be hours before things settle down."
"My room? Why my room? You're the one who was invited for the house party. You've got that hulking great wardrobe and at least two dressing tables to hide the thing in. I'm just an overnight guest; all I have is a shaving stand."
"You have neither a husband nor an abigail to pry into your things. I, on the other hand--"
"I should hope not!" Jasper said. Then he looked at his sister and snorted. "And if Stephen Granleigh has ever 'pried' in your things, I'll . . . I'll eat my cravat."
"If you dare to so much as hint any such thing about Stephen, I shall feed it to you myself," Lady Granleigh retorted. "Stephen is the soul of honor."
"Too honorable for his own good," Jasper muttered. His sister gave him a warning look, and he scowled. "Well, he is, and you know it, or why did you drag me into this mess in the first place? Granleigh stands to benefit as much as you do if he recovers the platter, but he wouldn't stand this havey-cavey nonsense for a minute." His expressive wave included the platter, the shattered window, the open display case, and his sister.
Lady Granleigh flushed. "That is not the point, and you are wasting time. What are we going to do with this platter?"
"Throw it out the window," Jasper said in a sulky tone.
"Don't be ridiculous, Jasper. There are still people combing the grounds in search of those housebreakers of yours; someone would be sure to find it before we could recover it."
"Why don't you 'ide it be'ind some of them books?" Stuggs suggested.
Lady Granleigh gave him a scornful look, but as no better idea was forthcoming, she and Jasper set to work removing books from one of the shelves. Unfortunately they did not think to check the platter against the size of the shelf before they did so, and when they tried to balance it on its edge against the wall, it proved too tall. They were forced to remove it and replace the books, reproaching each other viciously the entire time.
In the end, they hid the platter under the sofa cushions. Lady Granleigh was not altogether pleased with this solution, and warned Jasper several times that he must make certain to remove it before the maids came to straighten up.
"And on no account are you to allow Mr. Bramingham and the others to search this room," she added.
"How am I supposed to stop them?"
"I leave that to you. Now, I think it is time I recovered enough to return to my room. You may escort me. After that, I suggest you rejoin Mr. Bramingham and tell them your story. You"--she gave Stuggs a withering look--"had best stand guard outside the library door. It will look well, and that way we can be sure no one will come in and accidentally discover the platter before we have a chance to move it. Your arm, Jasper."
The three conspirators went slowly out of the library, Lady Granleigh clinging to her brother's arm as if she were about to collapse. The door closed behind them, and the room was empty at last.
Kim stirred, then poked Mairelon gently, somewhat surprised that he had not unlatched the bookcase door of their refuge. She felt him start at her touch. He let out a long breath and closed the little panel through which they had been looking. Kim felt him make a series of small movements, and then the bookcase swung wide.
Moonlight dribbled through the broken window, making Mairelon's magical light unnecessary. Kim darted out and began pulling cushions off the sofa. Mairelon pushed the bookcase back into place and followed, but more slowly. "Hurry up!" Kim whispered. "We ain't got much time."
"Yes," Mairelon said. "I know." He picked up the last of the cushions and threw it viciously to the floor. Kim winced, glad that it had landed on the carpet and not knocked anything over. Even a small noise was likely to attract attention, now that the house was alerted.
Mairelon reached down and curled his hands around the handles of the platter. A moment later, he let go and stood staring down at it, a grim expression on his face.
"Someone got here before us," he said in a low, tight voice. "This is a forgery."
"A forgery? You mean it ain't the right one?"
"Exactly." Mairelon turned away. "We had better be going."
Kim looked back at the platter and hesitated. "Are you sure? That's real silver, I'll go bail. And it looks a lot like that bowl of yours."
"The silver's real enough, and you're right about the pattern, but it's not the Saltash Platter," Mairelon replied. "It wouldn't fool any magician for an instant, once he got close enough to lay hands on the thing."
"All right, as long as you're sure." Kim went to the broken window and peered out. "Don't see nobody. Let's pike off."
"We can't do it fast enough to suit me," Mairelon murmured, and waved her on.
14
Kim and Mairelon had no difficulty in evading the searchers who were still scattered here and there on the grounds of Bramingham Place. The servants were spread out and the lanterns they carried were visible for a long way, which made them easy enough to avoid, and there was plenty of cover among the hedges and trees of the sprawling gardens. Kim almost enjoyed dodging through the shrubbery and hiding in the formal borders.
The walk back to the wagon was long, cold, and silent. They kept to the roads, where the moonlight let them see to walk more easily. Mairelon seemed sunk in contemplation, and Kim was too tired to ask what he was thinking. When they reached the wagon at last it was nearly dawn. Kim fell into her makeshift bed at once, and was asleep before she had time to notice whether Mairelon was doing likewise.
She woke to full daylight and the sound of dishes rattling. "Hunch?" she said hazily, lifting her head to see over the mound of blankets she was huddled under.
"I'm afraid not," Mairelon's voice said from near the door of the wagon. "Hunch can't possibly be back before tonight, and I don't really expect him til tomorrow at the earliest. You'll have to put up with my cooking until then. Unless you have hidden skills?" he added hopefully.
"Gnngh," Kim said. She wormed one hand out from under the blankets and rubbed at her eyes. "No."
"Pity. You'd better come have breakfast before it gets cold."
Kim realized that she was hungry. Well, no wonder; she'd done a day's worth of walking since dinner last night, or at least it felt as if she had. She unwound herself reluctantly from the blankets and went out to correct the matter.
Mairelon was crouched over a smoky fire with a long stick in one hand. He was fishing for the handle of an iron pot that balanced precariously on top of two of the burning branches. "Just in time. Bring the plates over."
"I thought you said it would get cold," Kim said, picking up the plates. "Smells to me more like it's getting burned."
"Cold, burned, what's the difference? Ah!" Mairelon snagged the handle at last and lifted the pot out of the fire. He lowered it to the ground and picked up a spoon. "How much do you want?"
"How much is there?" Kim asked, eyeing the black pot dubiously.
"More than enough for two," Mairelon assured her. "I, ah, got a little carried away when I was adding things, I think. Here, take some. I'm afraid there isn't any bread. We'll just have to do without until tomorrow."
Kim frowned at the lumpy greyish blob on her plate, then shrugged. She had eaten worse-looking meals in her life, and the worst any of them had done was to give her a stomachache. Hunch's savory stews were spoiling her. She took a spoonful. It tasted burned.
Fortunately, Mairelon did not seem to expect her to give her opinion of hi
s cooking. Kim ate slowly, sneaking glances at the magician when she thought he would not notice. He was unusually quiet, but perhaps that was just because Hunch was not there to glower and complain.
Mairelon caught her eye on her fourth or fifth glance. "Have I sprouted horns or a third eye, or is it just that I have charcoal smeared on my forehead?" he asked mildly.
"No," Kim said. Rather than try to explain, she asked, "How did you know that platter last night was sham?"
"Any magician would have. I thought I told you that."
"You said you knew. You didn't say how."
"Ah. Well, I knew because there wasn't any magic in it." Mairelon stared into the fire and swallowed another spoonful of his breakfast blob. "When a wizard puts magic into an object, it's generally because he wants the object to do something. That means the magic has to be . . . accessible, and if it's accessible it can be felt by other wizards. If the magic is destroyed or removed it leaves traces, which can also be felt. The platter at Bramingham Place hadn't a farthing's worth of magic in it, and it never had."
Kim frowned. "But if any wizard who touched it would know it was a cheat, why would anyone bother makin' a sham platter?"
"A good question. Possibly the forger wasn't a magician, and didn't realize there would be any difficulty passing it off as the real thing. Or perhaps she only wanted to keep people from realizing it was missing right away. After all, she couldn't have known there'd be such a parade of burglars to blame it on."
"She?" Kim straightened, staring at Mairelon. "You know who put it there?"
"I think so." Mairelon poked at his breakfast. "Renee wasn't part of the parade, you see, and she has more than enough information to have had the platter copied. I can't think of any reason why she'd have come to one of Harriet Bramingham's house parties, either, except to steal the Saltash Platter. She hates house parties."
"Renee? You mean that French lady? I thought she was a friend of yours," Kim said cautiously.
Mairelon's laugh was without humor. "So did I. But she must have been planning this for a long time, certainly since before we left London. So why didn't she tell me?"
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