Straw in the Wind (30 page)

Half an hour later the three men arrived, carrying Serafina's wicker baskets between them. They were laughing and jostling each other in the relaxed and uninhibited manner men assumed when they've indulged in one glass of wine too many.

But they were steady on their feet, and definitely not inebriated. They took the baskets upstairs to the room Serafina had been allocated. She was glad she'd thought to tidy up the mess Marianne had made, scattering clothes and accessories about the place.

Adam's eyes widened at the sight of her when he came down, and when he kissed her cheek she was hard put not to turn her mouth to his and taste the brandy on his breath. Tension between them was activated by their closeness, a thrill of attraction that tugged gently and implacably at her. What would happen if she moved across the small gap between them, she didn't know, but there was a longing to do so inside her that was hard to control.

‘How lovely you look,' he said.

Marianne told him, ‘She would have looked lovelier if she'd had some jewels to wear, but she refused to borrow my pearls.'

Serafina's eyes met Adam's, and they exchanged a rueful smile. ‘Serafina is already a pearl, and so are you, Marianne,' he said.

Nick elbowed Adam gently out of the way. ‘My turn, I think.' He kissed her on both cheeks.

Adam moved on to Marianne, then to Daisy.

Erasmus was at the end of the line. She gazed at him, and he smiled and held out his hand to her. Pulling her against his side he kissed the top of her head.

When they were settled around the table, he filled their glasses and said simply. ‘A toast. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to our family, my daughter. Serafina Thornton.'

Serafina closed her eyes for a moment, basking in the feeling of belonging, then a little chill of doubt moved in once again.

F
inch Leighton was annoyed that he'd missed Frederick and Jane.

Blanche Milson said carelessly, ‘Oh, they've gone to Kent to stay with friends, and intended to drop in on you at Leighton Manor. They'll be back at the weekend.'

He'd sent his new housekeeper down to Leighton Manor, and with her a strong young man of all work to help the ageing Joseph, since the house needed some maintenance repairs. He'd also sent instructions that the Milson pair was to be refused admittance to his home there. Finch hoped that the staff didn't mention the stolen jewellery to them . . . though they might now guess that he was on to them with the ban in place – or discovered his impending marriage to Celia, come to that.

Finch didn't let his anger show as he informed Blanche, ‘Frederick is supposed to be training for a position with the East India company at my expense.'

‘Freddie said that the man he was training under was terribly rude to him. He decided he didn't want to go abroad to live in a hot climate and be pushed around by an inferior little clerk. Besides, he learned all he needed to do, since he's always been good with money.'

Good at spending it, especially if it belonged to other people. Drily, he murmured, ‘So I've noticed.'

‘Besides, now Freddie's trained he'll have other prospects. As for Jane . . . I might as well tell you that she has an offer of marriage, and will be celebrating her engagement this weekend.' A trifle reluctantly, she offered, ‘You'll join us, of course.'

‘Who's the man?'

‘Oh, you don't have to worry that she's marrying somebody unsuitable. He's a businessman called Bartholomew Craven. And Bart has promised Freddie a job, in one of his warehouses. No doubt he'll be trained in management, so it will all be kept in the family.'

‘Bart Craven is in his fifties,' and he was much too old for Jane. But that was her problem. He also had a reputation of being cold-blooded, and if Frederick thought he'd be put in a management position, he'd soon find out different. Bart was a businessman through and through, and his managers were hard-worked and astute, though Finch had heard that he paid them well. He doubted if Frederick would last five minutes in that environment. ‘Wasn't Bart a particular friend of yours at one time, Blanche?'

‘My dear Finch, Bart still is a friend, but he needs a wife who is young enough to provide him with an heir, and who is able to host his parties. I introduced them myself, with the desired outcome clearly spelled out. He was very generous to me when Jane accepted him. Just as well, since the lease was due on this house.'

He gazed around the room. ‘This house is larger than you need, and way beyond your means now, Blanche. It was a pity you took out a loan against it. You must look for something cheaper to lease.'

‘Oh, this house is so convenient, and I'm sure Bart will help me out when Jane is his wife.'

‘So, Blanche . . . you sold your daughter to the highest bidder. How very callous of you.'

‘Oh, don't be so stuffy, Finch.' Blanche gave a short laugh. ‘Jane isn't an innocent, hasn't been since she was sixteen when I caught her with Freddie's best friend. It's you who set the terms by disinheriting them.'

‘They were never my heirs in the first place, and under the circumstances I've been very generous to them.'

‘But they had expectations that you didn't discourage. You'll never marry and produce children now. You were too enamoured with Diana. How foolish, when she was constantly unfaithful to you . . . we used to laugh about it together.'

Finch could imagine it, but he was well and truly over Diana now, and Blanche's cruel jibe about her infidelity washed over him. He'd left instructions that his late wife's room must be emptied of everything, and the clothing and furnishings burned.

‘Jane has told me about the room, about the jewellery scattered about, the unmade bed and Diana's clothes thrown over the chair. I understand that your housekeeper stole most of her jewellery . . . or is she more than a housekeeper? Freddie says she is. I suppose that even a blind man has his needs. You should have given the jewels to Jane, after all, Diana did say she could have them if she died. Well, it's gone for good now.
Pawned
by that snippet from the workhouse. And it serves you right. I wager that the girl doesn't seem so attractive to you now.'

Right now Finch's most urgent need was to take Blanche's yapping neck in his hands and squeeze the life from it. With a great deal of effort he resisted his homicidal urge. He'd learned from Adam Chapman that being a good listener brought its own rewards – and just at this moment he was learning a lot. If Jane and Freddie knew the contents of Diana's room, then they'd been inside it. That meant that they had stolen a key. He imagined it was the one he'd mislaid in London – found later at Leighton Manor. And Blanche had put a lot of emphasis on the word: Pawned.

‘Freddie tells me the girl is an opportunist, and that she made advances to him. Not that he was interested, of course. He said she was a plain creature who was looking for a wealthy husband. How would anyone with self-respect want a blind man as a husband, anyway?'

His wonderful Celia, for one, Finch thought.

‘Jane understands what's required of her, and once she's satisfied the condition of giving him an heir he'll settle an amount of money on her and she'll be free to do as she wishes.'

‘If you think that, then the pair of you are more naïve than I imagined.' What Bart Craven bought he possessed, and he'd want more than one heir for his money.

‘Bart has promised that if he dies without issue, then Jane will inherit everything. She will also have the settlement you promised her. And so will Freddie when he marries.'

‘Frederick has been given his last opportunity to make something better of himself. He's wasted it. I will not allow him to spend the rest of his life being a wastrel on my money so I intend to withdraw his allowance along with my help. I also intend to withdraw Jane's since she now has her hand in another man's pocket.'

Blanche looked alarmed. ‘Don't be silly, she's done exactly as you asked, found herself a husband. Speak to Freddie on Saturday, Finch. You can turn him to your way of thinking if you've a mind. He'll listen to you, as he always does.'

‘Only when he needs money.' He was finished with Frederick, except for one thing, but that could wait until Saturday. Looking forward to escaping from the stuffy red atmosphere of Blanche's drawing room, Finch placed his hand on the shoulder of the waiting Oscar.

When they were outside he took a breath of fresh air. ‘Take me to Adam Chapman's office, Oscar. And if we pass a flower seller on the way buy a dozen roses . . . red ones, and a vase to put them in.'

‘Yes, sir.'

Adam's establishment was just a few steps from the florist shop. ‘Finch, what a surprise, and how lovely to see you,' Celia said, and the genuine pleasure in her voice filled him with joy. ‘Adam's not here, but I'm expecting him any day.'

‘It was you I came to see, not Adam. Can you take time to walk with me? There's something I want to talk to you about.'

It didn't take long to bring her up to date on events, and for them to come up with a plan.

‘Let me know later how everything went,' she said when they got back, and taking his face in her hands she kissed him on the mouth.

He replied in kind, then said, ‘I love you,' and he laughed when Oscar gave a discreet cough, reminding them they were standing in a doorway in London.

There were several jewellers and pawnshops in the area, but not too many to cover in one day. Finch enlisted Oscar for the task of visiting each one. By the time his servant had returned he'd recovered most of the jewellery. It had cost Finch a fortune, but it was worth it. Still missing though, was the sapphire set.

Oscar said, ‘Most of the shops named the seller as being someone called Sara Finn. I also have two bills of sale signed by the seller, who named herself as Sara Finn. But the description given to me of the woman was that of Miss Milson, and I'm almost certain that it's not Miss Finn's signature.'

‘Well done, Oscar.'

‘You should have her charged with theft, sir.'

‘I know I should, but I have a much better punishment in mind. If my late wife promised the girl her jewels, then Jane shall have them. I shall insist. Did I bring that diamond ring with me?'

‘Yes, sir, it's in your waistcoat pocket.'

‘Oh yes, so it is . . . and make me an appointment with the doctor.'

‘Are you ill, sir?'

‘Mind your own bloody business, Oscar.'

‘If you insist, sir,' and Oscar laughed.

Come Saturday, Finch picked Celia up from Edgar Wyvern's house. In the darkness of the cab he took her in his arms and kissed her. ‘You're wearing your lavender gown.'

She laughed. ‘What makes you think that?'

‘It rustles when you walk, and you told me that you only had one best gown, and that was lavender.'

‘You have a good memory, but Edgar Wyvern has bought me several new gowns of late. I have gowns in yellow, blue, rose pink and rose red as well. In fact, I'm quite the lady now.'

‘You've always been a lady, Celia, my love. I do adore you, you know.'

‘And you know I love you. I felt comfortable with you from the first moment we met, as though we were always meant to be.'

‘So what colour is your gown?'

‘It's the lavender one. I chose it because I knew you'd hear the taffeta fabric rustle and remember the colour. And I knew you'd comment on it to prove how clever you are.'

‘That's cheating.'

He laughed when she chuckled, and she kissed him again, awakening all sorts of feelings inside him – feelings he'd never thought to have for a woman again.

‘I'll have to go to Poole and apologize to Serafina after this.'

‘She won't expect it, but yes, you must. It will be good for her to know there is no longer any suspicion attached to her. Her feelings would have been dreadfully hurt by what happened. She was very attached to you.'

‘I was a father figure to her, and by now she should have someone more suitable to replace me, if the man will accept her. Serafina has a good heart, and she'll forgive me.' He hesitated for a few moments, then said, ‘I shouldn't have presumed to involve you in what's about to happen, Celia, and it will probably reveal a side of me that you might not like. Would you like to return home?'

‘Certainly not. To commit a crime then deliberately lay the blame on someone completely innocent is despicable behaviour. You're letting Jane Milson off lightly, and she's lucky she's not being arrested. She does deserve to be exposed though, if only to herself.'

The room was warm, and lit by hissing gaslights, despite the fact that the daylight hadn't faded yet. The cigar smoke made Celia's throat tickle. Frederick had a wary look on his face when he saw Finch. ‘Good evening, sir.'

‘Frederick, this is Miss Chapman. You might have heard of her brother, Adam Chapman, he's a private detecting agent.'

Celia noted that Frederick's face drained of colour. ‘No, I can't say I have. How do you do, Miss Chapman.'

‘I'm well, Mr Milson.'

‘We won't stay for long,' Finch told him.' We have a previous engagement.'

‘I'm sorry I missed you at Leighton Manor, Uncle. You have a new housekeeper, I see . . . and a different groundsman. They refused to accommodate us.'

‘I left instructions to that end. Surely that didn't surprise you, Frederick.' Finch's smile had a sharp edge to it.

‘May I ask why, Uncle?'

Finch didn't feel a need to enlighten Frederick since he knew the answer. An awkward silence developed, then he said, ‘Where's Jane, I have a gift for her?'

‘She's over there, talking to Bart. He has promised me employment, thanks to you for arranging for my training. That was awfully good of you, Uncle. I shall have to start as a tally clerk of course, but it won't take me long to work my way up.'