by Amanda Quick
“Of course not. As far as they were concerned, they took their orders from Saltmarsh. Cox and Sibson were both fools. Neither of them would have believed that a mere woman, a brothel keeper at that, could find a great treasure that had eluded generations of collectors.”
“What went wrong the night Glassonby died?” Leo asked.
“In the course of our regular appointment he confided that he had that very day concluded a bargain to purchase the Rings. He said it had cost him virtually his entire fortune but that he now possessed them. He also said that he intended to make an offer to Trull to purchase the Aphrodite.”
Beatrice’s mouth thinned with rage. “You assumed that since you knew the whereabouts of the statue, the only thing you required from Uncle Reggie was the location of the Rings.”
“I added some powder that Cox had prepared to your uncle’s usual dose of the elixir. But he drank too much of it too soon. It was too strong for his heart. It was supposed to put him into a trance long enough for me to question him. But he collapsed just as I began to ask him about the Rings.”
“He died before he could tell you where they were,” Leo said softly.
Madame Virtue looked at him, eyes slitted with disgust. “He just kept shouting something about being ruined. The drug obviously affected his mind before it stopped his heart. He died with the word ruin on his lips. It was very vexing.”
Leo saw Beatrice stiffen, but she said nothing.
“At least you knew where the Aphrodite was,” he said. “You got rid of Trull and acquired the entire museum in order to get your hands on it.”
Beatrice frowned. “You are the new owner of Trull’s Museum?”
“It makes a change from brothel keeping,” Madame Virtue said. “Graham made the arrangement for Trull’s accident.” Madame Virtue glanced regretfully at Saltmarsh’s body. “Graham was so very useful. I also sent him to search Glassonby’s town house. He found his lordship’s personal journal, but it told us nothing that we did not already know. I was extremely frustrated, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
“The only thing left to do was to have Saltmarsh keep watch on Mrs. Poole, Glassonby’s nearest relative in Town, in case the Rings turned up in her possession.” Leo said.
“She was my only hope,” Madame Virtue admitted. “The rumors of the Rings had completely dried up on the antiquities scene. All of the serious collectors had concluded that the whole thing had been a hoax.”
“In the process of keeping an eye on her, Saltmarsh stumbled onto the information that Mrs. Poole was the famous authoress Mrs. York,” Leo said.
“Indeed.”
“And when I brought Monkcrest into the affair,” Beatrice added quietly, “you realized that I had begun to search for the Rings myself.”
“It was a stroke of genius to seek out Monkcrest’s assistance.” Madame Virtue gave her an approving smile. “It was also extremely risky. After all, there was only one reason the Mad Monk would get involved in such a search. He obviously wanted to obtain the Rings and the statue for himself.”
“Why the attempt to kidnap me early on?” Leo asked.
“Cox arranged that on his own. The stupid fool was the most unpredictable one of the three. He believed you had valuable information. He thought he could drug you and persuade you to talk. I was furious when I learned what had happened.”
“You tried to warn me off,” Beatrice said.
“Yes. I really hoped you would be wise enough to stay out of the affair. Believe it or not, I did not want to have to kill you, Mrs. Poole. I am well aware of your work at The Academy. It is naïve, but rather touching.”
Leo glanced at Beatrice. “What the devil do you mean, she tried to warn you?”
“Never mind,” Beatrice said. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Leo turned back to Madame Virtue. “Tonight you intended to get rid of the remainder of your accomplices.”
“Yes. But you have simplified that problem for me.” She aimed the pistol at his chest. “We have chatted long enough. Where are the Forbidden Rings?”
Leo eased one hand closer to the flaring lantern. “We don’t know.”
“You lie.” Madame Virtue’s hand tightened on the pistol. “I think you came here tonight to unlock the statue.”
Leo shook his head slightly. “We came here looking for more answers.”
“Bah. This is a waste of time. I no longer require your services, Monkcrest. The only one I need is Mrs. Poole.”
“She does not have the Rings,” Leo said.
Madame Virtue’s eyes narrowed. “I overheard you tell Graham that she knew where they are.”
“I lied.”
Madame Virtue’s face tightened with rage. “Bastard. You’re all the same.”
Beatrice cleared her throat. “I have one of the Rings.”
Stunned, Leo took his eyes off Madame Virtue just long enough to glance briefly at Beatrice. She raised her hand to the front of her shirt and tugged on a golden chain that hung around her neck.
Madame Virtue turned quickly toward Beatrice. “You have it on you? Let me see it at once.”
Beatrice slowly hauled the delicate chain out from under her clothing. Leo saw the bloodred ruby of the Monkcrest ring blaze in the glow of the lantern light.
“Give it to me.” Madame Virtue stretched out her free hand and took an impulsive step toward Beatrice. “My God, it’s a treasure in itself. I need nothing more. Give it to me.”
He would never get a better chance, Leo realized. He had to make his move now while Madame Virtue was transfixed by the sight of the glowing ruby. He swept out his hand and sent the lantern crashing to the floor. Glass shattered. Oil ran out onto stone. The flame followed it hungrily.
“Damn you!” Madame Virtue turned back toward Leo and raised the pistol.
Leo rolled across the top of the cabinet, seeking to put it between himself and the pistol.
“Bloody bastard!” Madame Virtue pulled the trigger.
His luck in dodging bullets had run out. To Leo’s chagrin, Madame Virtue moved far more quickly than he had anticipated. He felt the familiar icy fire scorch his shoulder. That made twice in less than a fortnight. Perhaps he really was getting too old for this kind of thing.
Behind him he heard the crash of broken pottery and a shriek of pain. Behind the cabinet he scrambled to his feet and raced around the corner. He stopped short when he saw Beatrice with the remains of a shattered vase in her hands, standing over Madame Virtue.
Madame Virtue did not move.
Beatrice stared at his shoulder. “Oh, Leo, not again.”
“I’ll survive.” He grabbed his greatcoat and began beating at the flames. “Help me. If we don’t get this out, this whole building will go up in flames.”
“I think that there are some things in here that should burn,” she whispered.
He glanced at her, astonished. “Why do you say that?”
“Never mind. You’re right. If this chamber goes, the whole neighborhood may well follow.” She seized her cloak and threw it over a small tongue of fire that raced along the thin line of spilled lamp oil.
The cold stone floor contained the flames before they could do any serious damage. Leo and Beatrice smothered the fire quickly. A few minutes later the chamber was lit only by the light of the lantern that Sibson had carried.
Beatrice held a handkerchief over her nose and looked at Leo. “This will certainly make for an interesting tale in the morning papers. How on earth are we to explain this bizarre situation?”
“Damned if I know.” Leo wiped his forehead with his shirt-sleeve and glanced around the chamber. “You are the expert when it comes to crafting works of fiction. I suggest you think of a good tale that I can give to the authorities. But whatever you do, keep yourself out of it. You do not need the scandal.”
“I rather think that she would survive it,” Madame Virtue said in a curiously calm voice. “She is a most resourceful lady.”
Leo and Beatrice
turned swiftly. Madame Virtue had pulled herself into a sitting position on the edge of a brass-bound leather trunk. She looked unnaturally serene. Her black veil was back in place, concealing her features.
There was a small open flask in her gloved hand.
“I salute you, Mrs. Poole.” Madame Virtue raised the flask. “My worthy opponent.”
Beatrice looked at her and then at the flask. “What have you done?”
“Taken one of Dr. Cox’s special tonics, of course.” Madame Virtue sounded amused. “I had him make up some extra to have on hand for just such a contingency as this.”
“You have swallowed poison,” Beatrice whispered.
“Surely you do not expect me to allow myself to be charged with murder and sent to the gallows, do you? So very undignified.”
“You must know enough secrets to buy your way out of the hangman’s noose,” Leo said. “At worst, you’ll be transported.”
“Unfortunately I cannot depend upon that outcome.” The black veil shivered. “It is better this way. There is just one thing I would very much like to know before I say farewell, Mrs. Poole.”
“What is it?” Beatrice asked.
“Is that ring you wear around your neck truly one of the Forbidden Rings?”
“No. It is the Monkcrest ring. I really do not know where the Forbidden Rings are.”
“I see. So the secret of the statue will go unrevealed after all.” Madame Virtue sounded weary. “How very ironic.”
“Madame Virtue—” Beatrice started forward.
“No.” Leo moved quickly to intercept her. “Do not get too close.”
Madame Virtue’s laugh was a hoarse croak. “It is all right, Monkcrest. I assure you, I have no more tricks up my sleeve.” She looked toward Beatrice. “Do not fret, Mrs. Poole. You cannot save everyone, you know.”
“Dear God.” Beatrice pulled free of Leo’s grip.
He let her go. It was obvious now that Madame Virtue was dying. He watched Beatrice catch her by the shoulders.
“The important thing.” Madame Virtue whispered, “is that you do save some.”
She shuddered and collapsed in Beatrice’s arms.
Chapter 21
A fortnight later Lucy looked up from the solicitor’s letter she had just opened. She stared at Beatrice, who was examining a length of pale yellow muslin at the counter.
“This is astounding,” Lucy announced with a gasp. “It says here that Madame Virtue left all her property and possessions to The Academy.”
“I know that it is difficult to grasp,” Beatrice began, then grimaced at a spate of very bad French that erupted from the other side of a nearby curtain. Arabella was being fitted for her engagement ball gown.
Much to Beatrice’s surprise and relief, Lady Hazelthorpe had professed herself thrilled with her son’s choice of a bride.
“What happens when she discovers that Arabella doesn’t have a dowry after all?” Beatrice had demanded of her aunt.
Winifred waved that aside. “Lady Hazelthorpe is no fool. She is well aware that she is extremely fortunate that her son has chosen a bride whose family is connected to the Earl of Monkcrest.”
“But it is such a very loose connection.” Beatrice pointed out. “Merely a sort of pending engagement.” She did not have the heart to explain that Leo had declared his intentions only in order to avoid a duel.
“There is nothing pending about it,” Winifred countered. “And Arabella’s dowry is no longer an issue.”
“What do you mean?”
“Monkcrest came to see me the other day to assure me that he would restore Arabella’s inheritance.”
“He did what? He never told me that.”
“He said you might be a trifle difficult about it, as you had not actually found those silly artifacts and, therefore, he could not purchase them from you. So we agreed to handle the financial details between ourselves.”
“I see,” Beatrice whispered, dazed.
“He also said that as far as he was concerned, he had gotten what he wanted out of the arrangement.”
“I see.” Beatrice wondered precisely what he had meant by that. “Aunt Winifred, what did you mean when you said there was nothing pending about my engagement?”
Winifred looked surprised by the question. “My dear, Monkcrest gave you that magnificent ruby ring that you wear around your neck, did he not?”
“Well, yes. But he never said that it was an engagement ring. It was a sort of gift.”
“Nonsense. Everyone knows that is the Monkcrest Ruby. It is a legend in the family.”
“Whose family?”
“Monkcrest’s, of course. The earls give that ring only to the women they love.”
“I have never heard of that particular Monkcrest legend.”
“Really? The entire ton is talking about it. You must ask his lordship. I’m certain he will tell you the details.”
But it had not proven the easiest of questions to ask, Beatrice had discovered. She told herself that she was waiting for just the right moment and just the right setting to inquire about the ruby.
But deep down she suspected that she was postponing the query because she was afraid of the possible response. That old relic? Found it in the attic a few years ago. No particular significance. Why do you ask?
“Do you think it is legal?” Lucy asked bluntly.
“What? The will?” Beatrice pulled her thoughts back to the present. “Yes, of course it is. With the income from her investments, we shall be able to enlarge and expand The Academy. We can hire more French tutors and some experienced dressmakers to handle the education of our young ladies.”
“Astonishing. Absolutely astonishing.” Lucy sat back in her chair. “She had nothing in common with the kind of women we attempt to help. I wonder why she did it.”
Beatrice thought about Madame Virtue’s last words. You cannot save everyone, you know. The important thing is that you do save some. “We shall never know the answer to that.”
THAT AFTERNOON LEO sauntered into Beatrice’s study without waiting to be announced. He carried the alchemist’s Aphrodite in his arms. Elf paced placidly in his wake.
The pair of them certainly made themselves at home these days, Beatrice thought. They wandered in and out of her town house as though it were their own.
Elf headed straight for his favored spot in front of the hearth. He yawned, flopped down, and promptly closed his eyes.
Beatrice ignored the hound. She looked at Leo, savoring the intense sense of recognition that shivered through her.
“Good day, my lord.” She put down her pen and glanced at his shoulder. “How is your wound?”
“Nicely healed.” He set the statue down on the floor near the hearth and stood back to admire it.
“Thanks to your excellent doctoring.”
“You do appear to recover well from your injuries—”
“For a man of my years, do you mean?”
“Indeed,” she said dryly. “Nevertheless, sir, it alarms me that you seem to be making a habit of getting yourself shot.”
“Believe me, it is a habit that I intend to break.” Leo brushed off his hands. “I am told that at my age, a man must cut back on some forms of excessive excitement.”
“I do hope you will not be bored by such a regimen.”
He gave her a wicked grin and walked around her desk to where she sat. Bracing his hands on the arms of her chair, he leaned down to give her a deep, hungry kiss.
When she was quite breathless, he raised his head. There was an unholy gleam of satisfaction in his eye. “I said I ought to cut out some forms of excessive excitement, not all.”
“I’m happy to hear that, my lord.” With an effort she managed to regain her aplomb. “Where have you been?”
“I stopped at the Drunken Cat. Clarinda fed me one of her new, improved meat pies and asked me to give you her best. She appears to be thriving in her new career as a tavern keeper.”
“That’s wonderful
.” Beatrice glanced at the statue. “I see you decided to keep the Aphrodite.”
“I thought she would make an excellent souvenir of our adventure.”
Beatrice’s stomach tightened. A souvenir was something one kept to remember something that was finished. “I see. Did you dispose of those artifacts from Trull’s storage room?”
Leo lounged on the edge of her desk and studied the green figure. “Everything has been dealt with exactly as you directed. The items that you pointed out in that chamber, the ones that disturbed you, were hauled away and destroyed. The rest were auctioned off to various collectors. The proceeds will go to fund the work of The Academy as Madame Virtue’s will stipulated.”
“And so it ends.”
“Indeed. Incidentally, the authorities seem quite satisfied with that bit of fiction you concocted.”
“Actually, I thought it was one of my better plots.”
She had kept it as simple and as close to the truth as possible. The newspapers had reported the story with enthusiasm, treating it as though it were yet another addition to the Monkcrest legend.
So far as the public knew, the Earl of Monkcrest, in the process of recovering a lost artifact belonging to the estate of the late Lord Glassonby, had uncovered the work of a ring of thieves who dealt in stolen antiquities. The villains had quarreled violently among themselves, and in the end all had died. Neither Mrs. Poole nor Mrs. York were mentioned.
A. Sibson, antiquities dealer, had also been left out of the narrative. Neither Beatrice nor Leo saw any point in turning him over to the authorities. He had survived his wound and was preparing for an extended visit to Italy.
“A bit fanciful.” Leo said. “Also somewhat glib.”
“It is not as though anyone will question it my lord. You are, after all, the Earl of Monkcrest, noted authority on legendary antiquities.”
“The crucial thing is that neither Mrs. Poole nor Mrs. York was ruined in the course of the affair.”
“Ruined.” Beatrice froze. She looked at the neatly bundled manuscript that sat high on the nearby bookshelf. “Ruined.”