Bees in the Butterfly Garden (The Gilded Legacy)

by Maureen Lang

  Claire’s hands went forward as she issued one tremulous word: his name. Meg seemed to have been forgotten as the two closed the gap between them. In an instant Claire was in the man’s arms, he with the most profound look of relief, she with such longing that he couldn’t possibly misread her forgiveness and acceptance.

  “I ask that you deal with me in the Pemberton way,” Jude said. “I haven’t forgotten, you see? I know I deserve justice—”

  “Grace, Jude.” Claire laughed her verdict. “Most definitely grace.”

  He kissed her then, the kind of kiss that ought never have been performed in public, not even by married folk, but Meg couldn’t blame either one. She doubted Madame Marisse herself, had she seen the look on Claire’s face, would have condemned the action.

  Meg, uncomfortable with witnessing so private an exchange, took a step back, drawing their attention.

  “Oh, forgive me, Meg! I—I’m so . . . just aflutter! This is—”

  Meg held out her hand as she finished for the flustered Claire, telling the man her name, then saying, “I can guess that you must be Jude Johnson. Claire—and not to mention Evie—have both spoken of you.”

  “Evie!” He looked past Claire. “Where is the little mischief maker?”

  “At home. And won’t she be sorry not to have come along today!” Claire clutched Jude’s hand. “You’ll return with us to the house, won’t you? Are you staying in New York?”

  “Only long enough to . . . to ask you to marry me, if you’ll have me. It means coming with me to Chicago, but it’s not so terrible a place, really.” He tossed his hat to the settee nearby, dropped his cane to the ground, and put both of his hands around one of Claire’s. “I know Chicago isn’t New York, Claire, and I haven’t nearly the money your father has or even what my own family once had. But I offer you all I do have, with a promise to take care of you the rest of our lives.”

  Claire was fully sobbing now. “Oh! Jude! Of course I’ll marry you.”

  If either one of them had dreamed of such a moment, it surely hadn’t included Meg as a witness. Nonetheless she felt hot tears stinging her eyes. When her dance with Ian had begun last night, she might have dreamed of him asking that very same question. But he hadn’t.

  A cold thought struck her. Her father had only asked Kate to marry him after Kate had no doubt insisted, with her recently found faith. Was that the way of thieves? Not wanting to commit to something as mundane as marriage?

  Perhaps she would never hear Ian say such a thing to her! Last night he’d told her he only wanted what was best for her. Suddenly, in comparison to what she’d just seen between Claire and Jude, Ian’s words sounded like a good-bye. Especially when she remembered his words about Geoffrey. All Ian had ever hinted about marriage was for her to consider someone else.

  She must send him a note immediately or, better than that, go to the Glenham, where he had been staying. Even if it meant humiliating herself with a demand that he clarify exactly what kind of partners he expected them to be.

  Meg knew she’d agreed to stay with the Pembertons through the next week or two, long enough so the exact date or time of the robbery would fade among many more nights that followed. But she couldn’t wait. She wanted to leave now.

  “Claire,” she said, glad when her voice sounded far calmer than she was, “would you like me to take the carriage home and send the driver back for you? I’m sure you’d like a little time alone with Mr. Johnson.”

  Claire blushed but shook her head. “Of course I’d like to, but how could we? Half of Fifth Avenue might still be in Newport, but the half who stayed behind have tongues just as active. Evie used to be our chaperone, as unlikely as it sounds.” She turned to Jude. “Will you come back with us?”

  “Yes, I’d like to speak to your father anyway.”

  “He’s traveling with Mother, but Nelson will be home soon. . . .” She grinned. “Jude, everyone in my family believes me to be in danger of becoming an old maid. I don’t think you need my father’s permission or my brother’s if you want to ask for my hand. They’ll both be only too happy to see me wed.”

  By the time the carriage let them out at the Pemberton home, Meg couldn’t decide which was worse: waiting for the robbery to be discovered or for confirmation of what she’d just figured out. Ian might have wanted to be her partner, but such a partnership never included any hope of him becoming her husband.

  Ian downed the rest of his beer just as Pubjug entered the bar.

  “It’s done,” Pubjug said, low. “Not one of the phony bricks ever made it to the yard, just as you expected. Our tips for Brewster went straight on up the line.”

  “Was it Keys who stole them?”

  Pubjug nodded grimly. “He pulled a gun on me. Never thought I’d see such a day, not from him.” Then he grinned. “Didn’t show no surprise about me bein’ willin’ to hand ’em over. He just took ’em like they was gold. I seen Brewster’s carriage a ways off, waitin’ for Keys to bring them over. I even helped.”

  Ian took a moment to relish an image of Keys delivering the gift to Brewster’s feet, of Brewster looking at the “golden” bars with that familiar gleam of greed and triumph. Had he touched them the way Ian wanted to touch the real bars? As tenderly as he’d have touched a woman?

  How long had it taken before he realized he’d been fooled? Ian nearly laughed with the thought.

  He slipped a coin across the counter to pay the barkeep, along with a generous tip. It was a good day, no matter what else happened from here.

  Ian stood and patted Pubjug’s back, although the man hardly looked pleased. He hadn’t understood this job at all, but then what had Ian expected of a man who’d been a thief nearly his entire life? Ian had hardly planned for the outcome of this job himself, not until the moment he’d succeeded.

  He had one thing left to do as a thief, and that was the reverse of all he’d ever done before: make sure the seal was returned to the right hands. To do that he awaited only the right moment, when the broken safe was discovered.

  “Well done. Now go home. Roscoe will be happy to see you.”

  Pubjug hesitated. He looked older than ever today; when he was unshaven, the gray of his beard added at least a dozen years to his leathery look. “You really want to do this, boy?”

  “I made the decision longer ago than I realized, my friend. Getting the best of Brewster confirms it. It’s a fine way to say farewell.” He shook Pubjug’s hand. Next to John, Ian hadn’t cared for any other man as much. But if Ian were to follow the leading of the faith he’d discovered, he wouldn’t be working with Pubjug anymore. He needed to start anew, away from every nefarious contact he had, which meant just about everyone he knew. Away even from Meg, for her own good. Even if she somehow gave up on following her father’s path, she could do far better than someone like Ian, who might very well struggle to do what was right for the rest of his life.

  “Good-bye, Pubjug. And thank you. Be careful of Brewster—he won’t be pleased to discover what we’ve done.”

  Pubjug looked as if he might say something but evidently couldn’t decide what. He only nodded, then turned away.

  “Pubjug?” Ian called after him.

  The man looked back.

  “If anything happens to me, take good care of Roscoe, will you?”

  He nodded again and walked out of the tavern.

  Leaving Ian to do one thing. He might have bested Brewster today, but that didn’t mean Ian would get to enjoy any freedom he’d gained from the man. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon composing, destroying, composing, then destroying again a letter to Meg. Ultimately he’d decided it was no use. She’d have to figure out for herself why he’d done what he’d done.

  Regardless, he must return that seal in the only way he could do it without any of them getting into trouble—or letting Brewster cause any.

  Ian only hoped he succeeded.

  Evie was, as expected, disappointed at having missed the astounding reunion of
her sister and Jude. Leaving them to chatter about everything from how long he’d been gone to the exciting prospect of the first wedding in the family, Meg drew away to her room to compose a note to Ian. Short, cryptic, but enough to convey her eagerness to join him. Would he wait for her at the Glenham, or should she meet him at his home on the Hudson?

  She addressed it to him at the Glenham, which was not so very far from Fifth Avenue in miles but seemed immeasurable in distance between them. She would send someone with the note that very afternoon.

  When Nelson arrived home, the atmosphere became festive again, with laughter and chatter echoing from the parlor and into the dining room once supper was served. Jude told them what had taken place in his life since he’d left New York, after explaining to Meg that his family made a bad investment and lost most of their fortune. How they’d gone to Chicago with enough to start a modest business there. How he’d tried moving his heart along with him, but it had remained behind in New York. With Claire.

  All in all, the day’s events were almost enough to take Meg’s mind off her troubles.

  Evie sighed. “Months and months, years and years of suffering that silly park settee and I wasn’t rewarded at all. It isn’t fair.”

  Nelson, sitting near her at the dinner table, patted her hand. “Yes, life is like that sometimes.”

  “I stayed in the library nearly all afternoon. Which reminds me, Nelson, you ought to be more careful about the key to Father’s office.”

  Meg felt the sudden drop of her heart at mention of the key.

  “Why do you say that?” Nelson asked.

  “Because it wasn’t in its proper place. After how many times you’ve lectured me and Mrs. Longford or Mr. Deekes about returning it to its place, I don’t think it’s fair that you didn’t return it properly.”

  Her words brought every bit of temporarily forgotten guilt crashing back upon Meg’s head. Only now that guilt was accompanied by stark fear. Terror, in fact, of being caught.

  Nelson frowned. “I haven’t used it since . . . let’s see, not for weeks, since we wrote that letter to Father. You saw me return it. You did check with Mr. Deekes, though?”

  “Yes, and Mrs. Longford, too, but both said it was in its place the last time they went in to see that the room was cleaned. That’s why I assumed you’d been the one to use it again.”

  They both turned to Claire, who shook her head.

  After a moment, the inevitable happened. Evie first, then Nelson, and finally Claire . . . even Jude followed their lead until they all looked at Meg.

  Meg had never been subject to swooning, but in that moment such a wave of light-headedness washed over her that she was grateful for the chair beneath her. In the next instant it took every fiber of her strength to remain seated, not to flee such stares. To act as if nothing were wrong.

  “If it was moved, it was not I.” How could such true words be so thoroughly a lie?

  Evie’s laughter made Claire, then the others, look her way. “You look as if you swallowed vinegar, Meg! All pasty white.”

  Meg told herself to join in with the laughter, but the effort produced a sound that seemed anything but natural. How could Ian have made such an amateur mistake? Even Meg, each and every time she had used the key, returned it to the exact spot in which it was always found. Under the heel of the brass button-up shoe bookend on the third shelf.

  “I’ll check again with the staff, Evie,” Nelson said. “But thank you for pointing it out to me.”

  “You see? I’m not the cause of trouble all the time.”

  Claire narrowed her eyes. “How do we know you didn’t make it up, just to garner credit for replacing something that wasn’t even moved to begin with? You do like to be the center of attention, and that’s been lacking this afternoon.”

  “I did no such thing!”

  Jude put a hand over Claire’s, his eyes merry. “I see nothing has changed between you and Evie these last years.”

  “Please take her to Chicago, Jude,” Evie said. “The sooner, the better.”

  Meg was relieved the topic had moved on, yet the fact remained that Ian’s visit had not been as invisible as he’d assured her it would be. She needed to talk to him more than ever now. How could he have been so careless?

  She’d never been his partner before, but based solely on the fruit of his past successes, she guessed he wasn’t careless at all. Did that mean a servant had somehow misplaced the key, coincidentally just after Ian’s visit? Preposterous.

  That left only one option: he had purposefully left it out of place so the robbery would be discovered sooner rather than later. But why? So she would have the opportunity to offer a quick, convincing performance of innocence and leave without further inquiry?

  The only way to know was to ask him.

  “Meg, what do you think? Will you?”

  Startled and dismayed that she hadn’t been listening to the conversation, she looked at Claire apologetically. “Forgive me, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”

  “Will you stand with me at my wedding? Act as my first bridesmaid?”

  “I . . . I would be honored.” Another lie. While she was indeed honored, she had no idea if she would remain in New York—at least in this circle of society—long enough to perform such a distinguished task. She squashed an immediate feeling of regret. She would have been delighted to stand next to Claire on that happy occasion, if Meg hadn’t proven herself so thoroughly unqualified to be Claire’s friend.

  Meg left most of her dinner untouched, and what did end up on her fork was simply moved from one side of the plate to the other.

  Had Ian been right when he’d first met her—that she didn’t have the stomach for life as his partner?

  33

  Once guilt is established, a swift and harsh punishment is the best deterrent for other would-be criminals.

  “Reasons for Incarceration”

  Meg approached her bedroom door after hearing a gentle tap—a sound that stirred immediate concern considering Jude had left an hour ago and everyone else had retired for the night. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Claire. I’m so sorry to disturb you, but Nelson thought it important enough to gather tonight rather than before the meeting with the staff in the morning. Could you come to his office with me, please?”

  Meg glanced at the clock, which she had long since replaced on the mantel. Near eleven.

  Donning her robe and slippers—she’d just about managed to remove the stains—she opened the door to see Claire’s concerned countenance.

  “Has something happened?”

  “I’ll let my brother explain.”

  Meg followed Claire across the hall to Nelson’s study, where the gas lamps had been turned high to brighten the room. He sat behind his desk with such a grave expression that Meg’s heart, already beating erratically, picked up its pace and sent new fire throughout her body with every pump.

  He stood when they entered, as if he’d been about to speak, but stopped when Evie raced in behind Meg and Claire.

  “I thought I heard voices!” She looked from her sister to her brother. “You were going to call me in, weren’t you?”

  “We didn’t want to burden you,” Nelson said, “but since you’re awake, you might as well stay. Close the door, please.”

  She did so, but no one took a seat.

  “There was a fracture in our security here at home,” Nelson said. Then, catching sight of Claire’s face, he added, “Actually it was more than a fracture; it was a complete break.” He rubbed his eyes, which looked red and tired already, not even an hour since he’d happily bid them good night. “To be honest I’m glad we’ll have this cleared up before Father returns, or he might never leave us alone again, Clairy.” Then he shook his head as if reminding himself of the day’s events. “I should say he might not leave me in charge again, since you’ll be leaving home when Mother and Father return for the wedding.”

  “Do you mean to say someone did use that
key?” Evie asked, leaning over the opposite side of Nelson’s desk. “And I’m the one who found the first clue?”

  Nelson nodded. “I’ve sent for the police chief tonight rather than waiting until morning, and I didn’t want any of you to be alarmed when he arrives. We’re safe; I’m sure of that. It’s just—”

  “Not Grandfather’s gold!” Evie nearly shrieked. “Was it—was it taken?”

  Nelson patted the air in front of him, air that was full of Evie’s worry. “Now, now, hush. Something was taken, but not the gold.”

  “The thief—or thieves—wasn’t able to open the safe, then?” Claire asked.

  “As curious as it is, yes, they were. I noticed as soon as I saw the safe that it had been tampered with. Only the Pemberton seal was taken—an item thoroughly worthless now that I know it’s gone. Whoever did this actually did us a favor.”

  Meg nearly covered her mouth but settled for knitting her lips tightly together. A favor, indeed. What would happen when they discovered the gold left behind was fraudulent?

  “A favor?” Evie repeated. “Why is it a favor? I’m frightened, Nelson! Someone—a stranger—came into our home!”

  “It’s a favor because he proved our security is lacking. The safe, for one, was obviously too easily opened.”

  “But how did they know where the safe could be found?” Claire asked.

  “They must know everything about us to know our biggest secret,” Evie said, her voice tremulous. “Only Mr. Deekes and Mrs. Longford even know where the key is kept, and only Mr. Deekes knows about the safe. Isn’t that right?”

  Nelson nodded, still deep in thought. “The chief of police knew about it; he was the one who gave advice to Father about updating the safe.”

  “Have you ever mentioned the safe to anyone, Evie?” Claire asked, though she did ask the accusatory question somewhat gently. “To any of your friends? Perhaps you were overheard.”