Cynthia Bailey Pratt (10 page)

Helena stammered, “I... we only just arranged it between ourselves, Nicholas. I was going to tell you this evening.”

“I see.”

Mrs. Swann spoke up. “I would not permit it, myself, Mr. Fain. Better to keep your sister safe at home. Two young ladies, even with the protection of ... Mr. Fletcher, is it? Two young ladies are exposed to all sons of dangers.” Her eyes rolled toward the tutor, as if to say that he was one of the dangers. “I do not feel Libermore to be safe at the moment. Why, the magistrate tells me they still have no clue as to the ownership of that knife. You know about this unpleasant matter, Miss Burnwell?”

Though Jocelyn realized the finding of the knife was a subject for common discussion, she still jumped when anyone mentioned it. Unnerved, she began, “Yes, your daughter-in-law ...” recollecting too late that Mrs. Swann mightn’t be pleased by Miriam revealing gossip before she had the chance.

Mrs. Swann said, “Yes, Miriam does so enjoy hearing all the news. Nevertheless, she perhaps did not know that Sir Edgar tells me he is instituting a thorough search for any miscreants who may be lurking in the vicinity. He assures me that they’ll be locked up at once and questioned about this mysterious knife. It’s too strange that a large knife should be found in a wagonload of pike.”

Jocelyn said, “Indeed, very strange. Has Sir Edgar considered that the knife may not be connected to Libermore at all?”

“Why, how do you mean, Jocelyn?” Miriam asked.

Everyone was listening. Jocelyn sipped from her cup, hoping her color had not changed, and said, “I believe odd things are often found in catches pulled in from the river. Weren’t twelve American silver dollars found in a fish three years ago? Mr. Quigg knew the man who found them. All the boys were tremendously interested in fishing after that.”

“But a knife, Miss Burnwell?” Mrs. Alastair Swann exclaimed.

Mr. Fletcher’s deep voice cut through the women’s surprise. “I believe a whale taken off the Norfolk coast contained two cannonballs, Mrs. Swann. I doubt a pike would boggle at a knife.”

Helena spoke up as well with the story of a bear she’d heard of while living in Switzerland who ate with great delight boots offered him by his master. Then Mrs. Bartlett Swann, ignoring her mother-in-law’s dark looks, told about a man in London famous for eating pounds of pickled cucumbers and who made his living challenging people to eating duels. Mr. Fain alone said nothing, gazing absently into his cup. The tea party began at last to take on some liveliness, contributed to in no small way by the sudden appearance of Arnold, filthy and munching on a scone.

His attitude was so lighthearted that Jocelyn braced herself for trouble. “Hello,” he said, more loudly even than was his wont. “Mrs. Swann, Mrs. Swann, Mr. Fletcher. How-de-do, Miss Fain, Mr. Fain. Cousin Joss.” He nodded his head respectfully to each of them while his grin grew wider.

Around a mouthful of crumbs he said, “Well, this is quite a party, Joss, old thing. I’m sorry I was out, or I would have come earlier.”

“Arnold,” Mr. Fletcher said sharply, recalling his duty and making a fierce face in the boy’s direction. “Don’t tease your cousin. Call her by her proper name.”

“Oh,” Arnold said with an expression of such innocence even Jocelyn was fooled for an instant. “She likes it. Don’t you, Joss?”

Murdering her cousin immediately was out of the question. There were too many witnesses. Mrs. Alastair Swann stared at Arnold with the same horror she would have shown the boot-eating bear.

“Don’t eat there. You’ll bring the mice. Come down to the kitchen, and I’ll give you some milk.” Jocelyn stood up, saying, “Excuse me for one moment,” and went out. Arnold followed her, brushing crumbs off himself onto the carpet. Jocelyn looked back, smiled, and shut the salon door.

Helena glanced at Mr. Fletcher, her raised eyebrows and his sending the same message. “Well,” she said brightly, rising to cross to Jocelyn’s now vacated position. “I hope she hurries Granville along with more tea.”

Silence met this essay. Helena felt the eyes of the vicar upon her, and her head emptied of new topics. Then Miriam Swann, with real inspiration, began to chatter of how the new fashions were to be made. The older woman found it impossible to keep aloof while her daughter-in-law made so many errors. Eventually even Helena forgot her brother’s dampening presence long enough to take an active part in the conversation.

Mr. Fletcher was torn between his duty to discover Arnold’s latest malfeasance and remaining in a room where he could hear Miss Fain’s voice, even if none of her words were addressed to him. He nodded at each of the ladies in turn, though he understood nothing of what they said.

Mr. Fain sat perfectly still and perfectly silent.

Chapter Six

The prickle of excitement beneath the skin was the same whether infiltrating into the heart of a foreign government or burglarizing a house. Hammond waited for the good-looking boy to leave the kitchen. The old man stooping over in the garden never looked up while Hammond stood in the shadows at the corner of the house peeking inside through the shutter. At last the blond boy, older than Arnold, put a teapot on a tray and carried it out of sight.

Hammond went in. He looked under the cloth lying on a basket, but found it empty. He began to look behind the narrow door beside the fireplace when he knew he was no longer alone.

A girl stood on the top step, one hand against the wall. After a moment he realized she was the girl he’d noticed in the church, the one Mrs. Gleason has spoken of so disparagingly. He could see why. Her beauty was such that no other woman could create it or copy it, for it had nothing to do with her clothes or hair. She met his eyes boldly but with no hint of the coquette. Her smile was friendly and welcoming.

She stepped down into the kitchen. The light from the open door behind him fell on her rounded contours and glowing skin. He knew he stared. He hadn’t expected a girl. His manner and voice were gruff. “I want to see Joss,” he demanded. “The other boy said he’d send him down. I’m not going to hurt him. I just want to ask him a question.” She was smiling at him as though she’d received a gift she’d always wanted. “Who are you—Joss’s sister?”

As if he were looking through a distorting glass, he saw the face of the boy he remembered. He blinked again to shift the illusion. But the eyes were the same as his and so was the curling hair, despite the scarf twisted through it. What a damnable complication!

“Oh, hell,” he said tiredly and sat down on the edge of the table. “Please tell me you have a twin brother.”

“No, sir. I’m sorry.”

And her voice was the same. Hammond sighed like a defeated man. “I must have been more ill than I realized.”

Looking at her, the gentle light burnishing her clear skin, he decided he suffered not from illness but madness. How could he have mistaken this female for anything but what she was? Was this what years of training and hard work came to?

Hammond’s face hardened and he stood up. “Give me the coat you were wearing when I saw you last.”

Jocelyn was taken aback. This was not what she had hoped to hear when meeting Hammond again. She knew now that she had been waiting for the moment when he saw her as a woman. Her heart had hammered painfully as she crossed the threshold into the kitchen, and it had not been from running down the corridor. Nor did its beat steady noticeably when she saw with what interest he first looked at her and knew her to be a woman. That interest soon faded, replaced by this expression of utter implacability.

She stuttered, “I—I fear you are not well yet, sir.”

“Dammit, girl. Your coat, and quickly.”

“I’ve not got it.” Fire blazed up suddenly in his dark eyes, and she bit her lip but stood still.

“What! Who’d you sell it to?” He caught her by her wrist. “Tell me, or I’ll break your neck!”

“Sold it? Truly, I ...”

Her combination of bewilderment and concern would have been impossible for all but the most accomplished actress to feign. He reserved opinion as to whether she was such an actress.

“Tell me, please,” he said, releasing his grip. “Tell me where the coat is. It’s important.”

“The blue coat ...”

“Yes.”

As though reciting a lesson, Jocelyn said, “It belongs to my cousin Tom. My aunt and uncle took it with them to return it to him.”

“Where?”

“Oxford.”

“Oxford! Are you certain?”

“Of course. Let me get you some water, Mr. Hammond. I truly think you are not well yet.”

“Never mind that.”

Nevertheless, Jocelyn went to the bucket beside the sink, dipped in a mug, and brought it to him. “Drink this.”

Hammond meant only to feign to drink from the water, but he drained the cup. “Thank you,” he said reluctantly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. You are frightened, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I am.” She lifted her chin as she said it.

He wondered if he’d bruised her arm and felt a sudden shame. He said gruffly, “I’m sorry I frightened you. How long ago did your aunt and uncle leave for Oxford?”

“They left yesterday.”

“What was yesterday? Only Saturday? Then I may yet be in time.”

“In time?”

He waved his hand, as though his words were of no importance. Through the windows, the glow of the westering sun surrounded him, yet his smile seemed brighter to Jocelyn than the light in her eyes. “You know, I owe you a great debt. If you knew how important—”

“There is no debt, sir. You helped me first. If anything, we are even.” She did not feel warmed now, even though his smile was friendly and held all the charm she’d hoped it might.

“Your name is Burnwell?”

“Yes, sir. Jocelyn Burnwell.”

He studied her face with renewed interest. “Are you related to Feldon Burnwell?” There were many unusual stories connected with the Burnwell he’d known ten years ago in London. He seemed to recall hearing some gossip about the man’s family, but the details were not clear.

“He is my grandfather, sir, but I am not known to him.” Hammond still stared at her. She blushed and looked away.

Suddenly she thought of Mr. Fain and his wolf’s look. Her face grew hot, and she said bluntly, “I don’t know if you are aware of it, but I believe the authorities want to speak with you. They found a knife, bloodied, and they are looking for the owner.”

“Ah, yes.” Hammond put his hand to his side and grimaced. “We never actually met, but I remember him very well.”

“Does your wound still pain you?” His nod could have meant either yes or no. Firmly Jocelyn said, “I will make you a comfrey poultice. It will draw off any inflammation.”

Hammond was about to offer a refusal with thanks, pleading a need for haste, when he heard a light step and a girl’s voice calling, “Jocelyn?”

In an undertone Jocelyn said, “That’s my friend. Miss Fain. She shouldn’t see you. You can hide in there.” She pointed to the door of the stair beside the fireplace.

The light through the shutters was full in Helena’s face when she entered, and her eyes took a moment to adjust. She did not see the masculine figure slip out of sight nor the small door left slightly open. “Jocelyn, where have you been? They’re getting ready to leave!”

“Oh, dear,” Jocelyn said in some confusion. “I forgot!” She saw that her friend looked at her as if she had suddenly gone quite mad. “I hope they are not angry?”

“No, they don’t seem insulted. Nicholas is exercising his charm, and Granville has been keeping us all beautifully amused. I didn’t realize he knew so many things about London society.”

“That has been his chief study for many years, which is why he has so much trouble with his education.” She knew Helena still regarded her with alarm, and she said, “I had better light the fire, if we are to have any dinner tonight.”

“I’ll help you make it. But you’re forgetting the Swanns, again.”

“Oh, dear.” Bundling wood into the stove, Jocelyn caught Hammond’s eye. Her back blocking Helena’s view, she lifted one finger toward the ceiling. He nodded briefly and faded into the shadows in the stairwell. She lit the fire from the kitchen lamp and left, followed by Helena, to return to her guests.

The elder Mrs. Swann seemed in no way put out by her hostess’s long absence. She complimented Jocelyn once more on Granville’s manners, refraining from bringing up Arnold’s name. She drew on her white gloves and accepted the strength of the vicar’s arm for the journey to her carriage.

Miriam walked down with Jocelyn, saying softly, “I shall try next time to come alone. We have had no chance for a good coze, and I am so longing to talk with you.”

The young Mrs. Swann looked pointedly over her shoulder at Mr. Fletcher walking in silence beside Miss Fain. In a whisper she said, “You are very wise to invite Miss Fain to stay. If you only knew how people gossip about even the most innocent people. Miss Fain will lend an air of propriety to your house. I have made an effort to persuade Mr. Fain to agree with me.”

“I cannot resist the blandishments of a beautiful woman, Mrs. Swann.” It was not clear which Mrs. Swann he referred to, but Mrs. Alastair Swann simpered. Mr. Fain helped her into her carriage.

The vicar turned back toward his sister and said, “I shall not see you for the evening meal, then, Helena. If it is not too much trouble, please lay out my breakfast for tomorrow. I do not wish Mrs. Penhurst to have the key to the larder.”

Helena said, “Of course, Nicholas. I will be prompt. Your supper is all but ready; it only needs to be warmed.”

“I see I shall have to get used once more to a bachelor household. Good afternoon, Miss Burnwell.” The vicar bowed to Jocelyn, clapped his black hat over his silver hair, and set off toward the church.

It seemed odd to Jocelyn that Mr. Fain, who did not seem to like the tutor, would make no greater objection to Helena’s staying under the same roof with him. Jocelyn decided that tonight, after she’d blown out the candle, would be the right time to delve into her friend’s confidence. Jocelyn further resolved that she would find a way to help Helena achieve her tutor, if he was what she wanted.

Mr. Fletcher had vanished. Jocelyn hoped he’d gone for one of his walks, with book and pipe. What would her position be if he came across Hammond somewhere in the house? With Mrs. Swann’s hints about the dangers to young women alone still in her ears, Jocelyn was certain she would be suspected of harboring an admirer. Thinking of Hammond, Jocelyn tried a few hints of her own. “Aren’t you tired, Helena? The spare room is made up, and I know how early you rise to help your brother on Sundays.”