Reluctant Bride (13 page)

“There is no point in disturbing Maisie. We’ll slip downstairs,” were the first words that left his mouth. He took my hand, while I quickly lifted up my lamp in the other to slip quietly along to the stairs. Like a pair of thieves in the night, we descended, trying to avoid the more loudly protesting steps.

“In here,” he said, when we reached the landing. We went back into the saloon recently deserted. I put down my lamp, then we went to the sofa.

“You could have knocked me over with a feather when he brought out his copy,” Edmund said. I will not say I was disappointed exactly at the businesslike speech, but to tell the truth, I rather thought the scent and the hand-holding augured a different statement. “I was sure we had got that copy from Reuben. It
is
a copy. I took the cork-brained idea for a moment he was brass-faced enough to have brought the stolen original out to fool us, but they were paste stones, mounted in good metal. What do you make of this turn?”

“I tried to tell you and Maisie that Uncle had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, but he had! Who else but he and yourself
could
have done it? Had another copy made, I mean. For that you require either the original or a good copy. You don’t suggest someone from around Westgate is behind it? Did Beattie know the reason for your visit?”

“No, he did not even know
about
the visit. He is no felon.”

“I wouldn’t trust him an inch beyond my nose, but stealing is not his customary crime.”

“What is?” I asked at once, full of curiosity.

“Pestering women. Can’t keep his hands off them. It is the curse of widowers. And bachelors,” he added with a smile, to show he jested, though his hand did in fact reach for my fingers again. I moved beyond his reach, which returned him to the path of business. “So the copy we bought must have been made from Weston’s copy. It looks highly suspicious to me that he would have a second copy made.”

“Maybe someone else did it. We did not ask whether he has someone resembling our walleyed, green-jacketed friend in his employ. The whole could have been done by his servants.”

“Or his grinning stepson. Maisie has no opinion of
him.
I have not heard
your
verdict on the fellow.”

“I don’t know him very well. I met him a few times here. He did not come to Westgate with Uncle. He spends most of his time in London since his mother’s death. It is not likely he knew of my visit, or its reason.”

“That should be easy to discover. We’ll make inquiries tomorrow while we are digging for word on Greenie. Meanwhile, tonight, I plan to go over his study. He had the replica necklace out loose on his desk, but there is an old safe in the corner that might be coaxed into opening for us, if you have a hairpin to spare.”

“What do you hope to find in it? The diamonds?”

“I don’t
hope,
exactly. After the amount of trouble we have been put to, I don’t plan to walk away without exploring all avenues. You stand guard for me. I’ll have a go at the safe now.”

As he finished his speech, there was the unmistakable squawk of the stairs being subjected to a heavy weight. “Maisie?” Edmund asked in a low voice. I shook my head in a negative.

“Uncle,” I prophesied, with a worried thought to the candle, which would alert him to our presence.

More practically, Edmund grabbed it and extinguished the flame between his thumb and finger, plunging us into darkness, while the steps came closer, hit the landing and advanced hesitantly toward the saloon. “He saw the light,” Edmund whispered. His fingers, in the darkness, groped for mine as we turned toward the doorway. A pale orange glow appeared, signaling Uncle’s lamp. I never felt so cheap in my life. What would he think, to see us sitting there in the darkness?

I knew I would blurt out the whole truth if Weston asked me a single question.

“Who’s there?” Uncle called, his voice strained with fear, or suspicion. “Is it you, Glandower?”

Ever inventive, Edmund put his arms around me and kissed me, with the greatest enthusiasm. I was nonplussed, till I realized why he did so extraordinary a thing. He meant to gammon Uncle we fiancés were indulging in a bout of lovemaking, to discourage him from other thoughts. I think he might have created the impression without
quite
so long an embrace. It was not the optimum time for me to gauge his expertise, but even in my distracted state I knew he was no amateur. The circle of light came closer, causing me the most acute attack of embarrassment. I pushed Edmund away from me and gasped. No acting was required for me to play the blushing damsel.

“Sorry,” Uncle muttered, feeling much as I did myself to judge by his tone. “Thought I saw a light burning. I made sure it was Glandower come home.”

“It’s only us,” I murmured.

“Sorry if we frightened you,” Edmund added.

“No, no. That’s all right. I came down to get some papers from my desk. I can’t sleep, so may as well answer a few letters—business letters.” He turned, in a hurry to leave us.

“Since we have been found out, we shall beg a light from you,” Edmund said, disentangling his arms from me and arising to relight our taper.

I felt we ought to make some mention of going back upstairs, as I had not the nerve to go breaking into Uncle’s safe after this episode.

“Thank you, sir,” I heard Edmund say, as calmly as though it were broad daylight, and we had been doing no more than talking together. “We shall be retiring very soon. Lizzie and I have a few matters to discuss privately. Her aunt is always with us during the day, and we have sunk to a secret tryst to accomplish it.”

“I understand. I was young myself once. Engaged after all, and Lizzie, I know, is to be relied upon to behave with discretion. I shan’t disturb you again.”

He left. Edmund returned to the sofa and put an arm around my shoulders, which I promptly removed. “He might come back,” he pointed out.

“He said he would not.”

Edmund pulled away rather quickly. I took the absurd notion he was going to apologize. “Don’t apologize. I know why you did it,” I said, wishing to terminate any further reference to the lovemaking.

“Apologize?
I expected congratulations!”

“That was quick thinking on your part. There, I hope you are satisfied.”

He leaned forward, smiling mischievously. “I am not satisfied that easily—when I am traveling.”

I remembered very well his propensity to dissipation when away from his home, but was determined not to show it. “You will not break into the safe tonight, after this?” I asked.

“The perfect time. He has promised not to disturb us again. There—he is going back upstairs.”

We sat listening to the squawks mount higher, reach the top, then go on beyond hearing. “Let’s go,” Edmund said.

We went along to the study where a large, heavy, black vault sat unhidden in the corner. Like most objects in the house, it dated from the age of Elizabeth I. They were good locksmiths in those days. The door even seemed loose—it was possible to jiggle it and see it give slightly, but it was impossible to pry it open with a hairpin, letter opener, clasp knife or any other makeshift device. I was extremely nervous, and kept going to the door to listen for Uncle’s return. At length, Edmund conceded defeat.

“I’m going to get one of those things,” he said, glaring at the safe. “It would take a professional to get it open, and it could not be lifted out of your house with anything less than a hoist.”

“Let us go,” I said, my nerves stretched wire thin.

“We’ll have a look at his desk while we are here.”

The desk’s surface held about two years’ correspondence, all in a jumbled welter. My own letter was there, half a dozen from Glandower, some asking for money, some declining or accepting invitations to visit. There were bills and receipts and a brief note from Aunt Vera, my father’s sister, giving a highly colored account of my financial difficulties at Westgate, ending with the assertion that if it was beyond poor Lizzie to make a decent match, she ought at least to hint Jeremy towards an heiress. While interesting, neither this letter nor any of the other paper was at all helpful to our quest.

“Let us go,” I suggested two or three times, while Edmund yanked open drawers and rifled quickly through more papers.

Something in the bottom of one had caught his attention. I went to read over his shoulder, but as it was up to my eyes, I had to jiggle him aside and get in front of him. What he held was a stack, not thin either, of IOUs bearing Glandower’s name.

“The boy gambles heavily,” he commented, as I mentally tallied up the chits. They came to nearly five thousand pounds, over a period of two years.

“And
loses!
What an expensive fribble he is!”

“I wonder what he finds to
grin
about, with all this bad luck.”

“He doesn’t, really. Maisie is jealous because Glandower will get this estate, which she had earmarked for Jeremy, you see. Let us put them back and go.”

With a last look all around, we left, to return to the saloon and our sofa. “There is nothing more to be done here,” I said. “We’ll make discreet inquiries tomorrow about Greenie, and to learn whether Glandower was here when I wrote to Uncle about the necklace.”

“And if he wasn’t?” Edmund asked.

“If he was not, I must go to Bow Street.”

“And if he
was
here, then we go after him. It strikes me a boy who bilks his stepfather of five thousand pounds would not be above stealing a necklace worth the same sum. Certainly he is not above suspicion in any case.”

“But he is in London,” I pointed out.

“You can get to London from here, Lizzie,” he pointed out.

“But it’s so far away, and expensive . . .”

“It won’t be that expensive. I have a house we can stay at. As to the astronomical distance of sixty or seventy miles, I expect to have my carriage tomorrow. Our trunks are in it.”

“More
money wasted. How much has this cost, all told?”

“A not so small fortune, but then you have made me economize in other expensive areas—my old traveling vice I refer to—so we can afford it.”

“Oh, dear, and they’ll be even
more
expensive in London—your vices, I mean.”

“That's true. You pay through the nose for your pleasure in the city.
You
have something to look forward to. The colonel was London-bound, was he not?”

“Yes, but I didn’t get his address. I had no idea we would end up there.”

“I would like to go to London. I usually go every spring, but missed it this year.”

“Ah, yes, spring is the time for your hobby of chasing lightskirts.”

“Just so.

The cuckoo then, on every tree,

Mocks married men.

It is the season that belongs peculiarly to us bachelors. I find late summer a suitable alternative, however.”

“Take care you don’t end up a tenant-for-life, like poor Willie.”

“I keep thinking about Willie.”

“Poor
Willie, you mean?”

“I am beginning to change my mind about his misfortune,” he said, laying an arm nonchalantly along the back of the sofa, which also put it across my shoulders. “I have enjoyed being an engaged man.” His other hand reached for the tin ring which proclaimed his status.

“I advise you to dart home to Woldwood as fast as your friend’s grays can carry you, Edmund. This trip is going to your head.”

“No, to my heart.” He sat looking at me, and the ring on my finger. Then he raised his eyes, hunched his shoulders and said, very offhandedly, “I'm willing to risk it.” The arm that rested on the sofa inched lower, till his hand fell on my shoulder. I leaped up, wary of what would come next. “I assume you are not?” he asked.

“Let us wait and see what we discover tomorrow about Glandower and Greenie.”

“Very well,” he said, in a brusque, offended way. We went upstairs silently together. “Goodnight,” he said at my door, rather coolly, without even slackening his pace.

“Goodnight,” I answered solemnly.

He looked back over his shoulder, one short, angry glare, but said nothing more.

Chapter 11

Maisie did not reply to my knock. When I entered her room, the soft sound of snoring told me she was not so keen to hear the “no news” that she had lost any sleep over it. In the morning, I informed her what had passed.

“My money is on Glandower,” she said, pleased to have her whipping boy as the last remaining suspect.

Uncle Weston had taken his breakfast before us, but came to the table to bear us company. A commanding look directed to me from Edmund urged me to institute the necessary questions, before ever I had poured cream in my coffee, or hardly said good morning.

After a brief interval, I said, “Has Glandower been home recently, Uncle?”

“Yes, he comes by often, but doesn’t stay as long as I would like. He is always darting off.”

“When was his last visit?” I pressed.

“He was here last week with a friend. A nice young fellow he met in London.”

“I am offended he did not stay to meet me,” I said, to hear positive confirmation he had been here at the proper time to know of my coming.

“He would like to have stayed longer, but as I said, he had a friend with him who had to leave, so Glandower left too. Glan returned to London; his friend went along to meet someone else.”

“Glandower went alone to London?” I asked, wondering how to broach the subject of Greenie.

“Yes, he set out alone, but was to meet his valet along the way. That walleyed fellow he has hired lately to look after him. The lad had some business he had to see to at his home. He was to meet Glan somewhere along the way to London. The young fellows nowadays won’t be seen in public without their valets to lend them consequence.”

I could feel the tension at the table, though of course none of us commented on these interesting statements—that Glandower knew of my visit and had the felon in his employ.

“Where does he put up in London?” was Edmund’s question.

“He has a little cottage on Downing Street, not far from the Prime Minister’s residence. I have been to it. He has a nice bit of garden going down to Saint James’s Park. I once saw the Prime Minister strolling in the park. Glandower sees all the ministers passing by. It is a very good address.”