Lady Catherine's Necklace (11 page)

‘Rundell and Bridge—' began Mr Delaval, but Lord Luke interrupted him.

‘No, I am certain that my sister had the intention of hiring Gray's of Sackville Street to do her business.'

‘Why not fetch down her maid?' suggested FitzWilliam. ‘She must have been in Aunt Catherine's confidence.'

‘An excellent idea,' said Lord Luke. ‘Let Pronkum be sent for, Frinton. And tell her to bring the gems. And show the men in here.'

‘Yes, my lord. And shan't I let Anderson the footman stand by the door while the persons are in here looking at the stones, sir, just to be on the safe side?'

‘Not a bad notion, Frinton. For it does seem a trifle odd that she sent for both men.'

‘Do you think one of them is an
impostor?
' suggested Mrs Jenkinson, looking scared to death.

The two men were ushered in by Frinton, who announced: ‘Mr Foster of Rundell's, Mr Bolton of Gray's – would you stand here, if you please,' as if he expected one or both of them to snatch up a porcelain dish or a silver snuffbox and make a bolt for it. Both men looked intensely respectable. Both were dressed in drab shop-men's wear of snuff-coloured broadcloth, and eyed each other combatively.

‘I have a letter from a Mr Delaval, countersigned by Lady Catherine de Bourgh,' said Mr Foster.

‘I have a letter from her ladyship
herself,
' said Mr Bolton.

Pronkum came in carrying an immense black jewel case and a look of extreme disapproval. She was a tall, bony woman with dyed black hair, a long face, high cheekbones and a highly coloured complexion.

‘Well, well, Pronkum,' said Lord Luke. ‘Can you explain this puzzle? To which of these establishments was Lady Catherine about to entrust her diamonds?'

‘She hadn't yet decided,' said Pronkum, throwing a sour look at the newcomers. ‘She said, “Pronkum, I leave it to you. If you don't like the trim of either of them, you just keep a-cleaning the stones yourself, as you always have done, in lye made from soapy water, and brushing them with a brush of badger-hair. You judge these gentry for yourself, Pronkum,” says she, “and if you don't favour 'em, send them off with a flea in their ear.”'

‘Oh!' said Lord Luke, rather taken aback. ‘Well, as you're here with the stones, let us take a look at 'em and hear what the fellers have to say. Frinton, why don't you lay a baize cloth over the tea-table and stand close at hand?'

Frinton did so, and Pronkum, showing considerable reluctance, drew a key from her reticule, unlocked the jewel case and then, with slow ceremony, laid out the jewels on the cloth: first the ear-bobs, then the brooches, then the tiara and finally the great three-strand necklace. Then, with even more reluctance, she stepped back from the table.

Everybody in the room was irresistibly drawn to the glittering display.

‘Don't touch!'
warned Pronkum sharply. ‘
Hands off!
Diamonds smear easy!'

‘Humph,' said Lord Luke, peering short-sightedly. ‘Well, gentlemen, what do you say? What price are you empowered to charge Lady Catherine for polishing up these sparklers? If I know my sister, she would go for the lowest bid!'

The two men drew near and cautiously inspected the gems. Then the man from Rundell's said:

‘That's a big job. All those facets need polishing. Can't possibly be done here. I'd have to carry them back to town. And the price would be fifty pound. At the very least.'

His companion looked at him with utter scorn.

‘Hark at him!' he said. ‘The man's a gyp. He's a fleece. He's a sham! If he believes what he says, he don't know a diamond from a duck's egg. For a start, it would cost twice that figure to clean them, maybe three times. But in any case those stones are fakes. They are imitation. Ask
me,
I've been fetched down here on a fool's errand!'

Pronkum turned as white as rice-paper and dropped the jewel case.

VII

Letter from Miss Maria Lucas to Mrs Jennings

My dear madam,

Mr Collins has not yet returned to Hunsford. We learn that the drains at Longbourn Manor are in a shocking condition, and the house cannot be let until they are put in better order. (Mr Bennet, it seems, was a sad heedless householder who permitted many parts of his estate to fall into a parlous condition of neglect – my sister has had many communications from her husband lamenting this state of affairs.) By great good fortune Lady Catherine is away from home at this time, otherwise I am very sure she would never have permitted her incumbent clergyman to absent himself for so long.

As matters are, we go on very peacefully. At least in this household. But now, dear ma'am, I have to relate to you a dreadful fatality which lately took place in this neighbourhood.

I told you in an earlier letter about the two painters who had been friends of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, and who for many years have occupied a house on the Rosings estate. And I also told you of the couple, Mr and Miss Delaval, who, due to a carriage accident, have been staying at Rosings House. Mr Delaval, who is most knowledgeable about improvements, and has a very persuasive manner, has been advising Lady Catherine on how best to perfect and develop her parkland and pleasure grounds, and she has been listening to him with a very willing ear. (The lime avenue is to go, I grieve to report, and the cherry orchard is to be grubbed up.) Mr Delaval's most recent piece of horticultural and aesthetic counsel related to the cottage where the two painters have been living for the past twenty-odd years. He persuaded Lady C. that it was a sad eyesore and should be pulled down, to make way for a grotto or a Grecian temple. She was most ready to comply with this advice, and gave the two friends one month's notice to quit. (Neighbourhood gossip has it that the two men, Mr Mynges and Mr Finglow, had been great friends of the late Sir Lewis de Bourgh and that Lady Catherine, who by all report was not on good terms with her husband, had disliked the two men on no better grounds than
because
they were favourites with Sir Lewis.) Lady C.'s edict was such a shock to the elder of the two men, Mr Finglow, who was already in a low state of health, that he suffered a severe seizure which rendered him blind; also, for two days, paralysed. Rousing from this latter condition he quitted the cottage, at a time when his friend was not at hand, tottered out of doors, and contrived to fall, or cast himself, into a great blazing bonfire composed of unwanted canvases, frames and articles of furniture, etc., which had been set burning not far distant from the house. From the shock and burns ensuing upon this accident, Mr Finglow soon succumbed after every possible measure to save him had been tried in vain, and his last rites were performed three days ago by the curate, Mr Lawson, attended by a very large concourse of people not only from the village and surrounding countryside, but also from town, for the two men were very popular. Lady Catherine and the Delavals did not attend the service, which may have been just as well, for I understand there is some local feeling against them. It is not greatly to be wondered at.

Lady C. is now gone into the West Country to visit her sister-in-law, the Duchess of Anglesea, who resides on an island off the Cornish coast, and the Delavals remain at Rosings until Miss D.'s ankle is mended, which seems to be a mighty slow business. Poor Miss Anne de Bourgh has been greatly distressed by the tragedy; she grows thinner daily and looks as if she cried her eyes out every night. Col. FitzWilliam does not seem able to comfort her. And Lady Catherine's brother, Lord Luke, though still resident at Rosings, is hardly to be seen (Mrs Jenkinson informs us), for he spends all the hours of daylight ensconced in the attics at Rosings, hunting for some document…

He asked me, very civilly, if I would assist him in sorting out papers from the hugger-mugger that is to be found up there. Apparently, when Hunsford Castle was torn down, all the contents and furnishings were stored in the barns of local farmers during the construction of the new mansion. When this was completed, the more valuable furniture was placed in the main salons (or some of it, at least; Lady C.'s taste inclining to lighter and more modern pieces than some of the massive and heavy, if historic, objects which had served her forebears), but anything in poor repair, or whose use was unknown, was relegated to the garrets, which run the whole length of the house under the tiles and above the servants' bedrooms. So there is an infinity of lumber, as indeed Charlotte and I observed, for she accompanied me up there to see what kind of a task Lord Luke was proposing for me. When she perceived the immense heaps of dusty anonymous objects, she cried out in horror and wholly forbade me to pass any time in such an unwholesome atmosphere, for, said she, if I did not breathe in enough dust to bring about my death from asphyxiation, I would assuredly meet my Fatal End due to some heavy object toppling on me from one of those ill-piled, top-heavy mountains of Miscellaneous Rubbish.

Lord Luke was greatly cast down at hearing this prohibition, but indeed, Charlotte said later, it would be highly improper for me to be up there alone with Lord Luke (though as to that, I am sure he is the most harmless creature in the world), but Mr Collins, she said, would be shocked to death at the very notion, so it is not to be thought of. In a way I am sorry at missing the opportunity to delve in those amazing piles of odds and ends, for who knows what may not be there? Charlotte and I divert ourselves for hours together in concocting suggestions as to what may be the object of Lord Luke's search: I incline to King Alfred's diary, for portions of Hunsford Castle were Saxon in origin, but Charlotte's theory tends to a lost work by the author of
Beowulf.

Thus we endeavour to comfort ourselves during what is, in truth, a sad enough time; for though we did not know Mr Finglow well, he was a man of such kindness and talent, and his end was so dreadful, that it has strongly affected the entire neighbourhood.

Col. FitzWilliam remains at Rosings still, for I understand that he has given his promise to escort Lord Luke back to Wensleydale when the latter has found what he is searching for and wishes to return home; but that may not be for some weeks yet, since both men, we understand, have promised Lady C. that they will remain in the house while she is absent. We do not see the colonel, he does not come to the parsonage any more and I am glad of it.

A mysterious story has been circulating in the village that two men came down from well-known London jewellers to inspect Lady C.'s diamonds and give an estimate for cleaning them, and that one of the men declared that the diamonds were counterfeit!

We hardly know what to believe! Lady C.'s maid, Pronkum, remains at Rosings and, it seems, is as astonished as anybody – indeed, she was quite prostrated.

Your affectionate friend,

Maria Lucas

‘The dinner at Truro was disgusting,' pronounced Lady Catherine. ‘And this road is abominable.'

‘Yes, ma'am,' said Hoskins. ‘Would your ladyship wish for a cup of tea from the flask?'

‘Certainly not! I daresay it would be tepid, and would taste of nothing but the metal flask and sour milk. What time is it? Are we approaching Brinmouth? This stage seems to have lasted for ever.'

‘I'm afraid, ma'am, I can't see the face of the carriage clock – the light is so poor. Would you wish me to stop the driver and step out into the road? It is likely to be lighter outside.'

‘By no means. Let us get on as fast as may be. It would be lighter if it were not for this intolerable weather.'

‘They told us at Launceston, ma'am, that they had had more rain in the last three days than in the last three months,' Hoskins said, compressing her lips as if such weather would never have been allowed in Kent.

‘I do not believe it. I dare say one may always expect such weather in these parts. Where is the baggage coach? It seems to have been entirely left behind.'

Lady Catherine peered out disapprovingly at a dismal twilit vista of grey, hurrying clouds and rainswept moorland set about here and there with large shapeless rocks.

‘You may give me a dram of brandy, Hoskins – this road is so wretched and the coach sways about to such a degree that I feel quite queasy.'

‘Yes, my lady.' No hint in the maid's manner suggested that she had been waiting for this moment since they left Truro. She unbuckled the strap around a hamper and brought out a silver hunting-flask, the top of which, when unscrewed, did service as a cup.

‘There, ma'am.'

‘You have hardly filled it more than half full.'

‘Because the coach sways so, my lady.'

‘Pour me another.'

‘Certainly, ma'am.'

‘Did you post the letter to Lord Luke that I gave you at Truro?'

‘Of course, my lady.'

‘I suppose he will not receive it for at least three days,' Lady Catherine said discontentedly. ‘I cannot imagine why anybody chooses to live in such barbarous regions as these. And when I recollect that we still have a sea journey ahead of us…'

She yawned deeply once, and then again. The silver flask top slipped from her hand. Her head drooped sideways.

Hoskins neatly retrieved the flask top and screwed it back on to the flask. She surveyed her mistress attentively for some five or six minutes, then, satisfied, rapped on the hatch. When it opened:

‘She's off!' the maid reported. ‘Sleeping like a babby. Are we nearly there?'

‘Just about. See those lights on up ahead? That be Brinton Tor; beyond lies the hill we gotta go down, and Brinmouth's at the foot. 'Tis a pesky steep hill, though; I'll not be sorry when we're down. Best you get out, my gal, and walk at the horses' heads, hold them back do they slip; this road's no better than a demmed waterfall.'

Grumbling and protesting at this extra duty, Hoskins nonetheless did as she was required. The horses slipped and stumbled and shivered; the coach swayed from side to side as they crept down the precipitous hill. On the left, a high bank rose into near-darkness; on the right, a steep declivity ran down to the lights of a town or village some distance below. Down there, the sea could be heard breaking on rocks, and there was also the sound of rushing water closer at hand.